Letting the Cables Sleep

I held my breath, everything is perfect now.

In rapid succession. A thumping. A marching bad. The sound of marching horses. The wind funneling through the woods. The thunder of the earth shaking. The summer storm pushing closer.

My eyes welling.

Fundamentally Loathsome

Waking up is too much of a chore. The world is dreary. Fuck the world. Fuck the people who make up the world. Fuck the people who make the world turn. Fuck the lawyers, the police, the president. Fuck the boy down the road. Fuck the old farmer and fuck his wife, too. Fuck the teacher, the professor, the principal, the dean of students. Fuck the preacher, the altar boy and the priest he’s blowing. Fuck the nun. Fuck the pro-lifers. Let them rot in the streets with their violent protests with the pro-choice. Fuck abortion doctors and abortion clinics. Fuck blood donors. Fuck the rain forests and fuck the whales. Fuck shock rockers. Fuck rappers making a quick buck. Fuck Jesus, the Dali Lama, the Torah and the Qur’an .

If I had my way, this world would burn under it’s own hate, its own pain. There is nothing here worth saving. Rorschach had it right. This world a horrible place. Existence is random. We create whatever patterns we see. There is no meaning except the ones we choose to impose. There is no god that causes people to do what they do. No destiny that predicts our behavior. There is only us. And so there is no reason to feel anything greater toward the human race other than disdain. So when humanity is quivering, beginning for forgiveness, for salvation the only logical thing is to look down upon them and whisper, “No.” (Watchmen)

But Frodo

“I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something. That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo and it’s worth fighting for.” –Samwise Gamgee (Lord of the Rings: Two Towers)

There is no purpose in life, except the purpose you create

Puffin Nihilism at its best. What’s the purpose of living. How can my worth be any better or any less than the next guy’s? Life isn’t worth living unless you’re willing to actually live. El Senor and I sat at Moonbeans a couple of years ago discussing our purpose in this world. We concluded that the purpose of the human race sans religious aspects – considering he’s an Atheist and I’m an Agnostic – is to procreate and better the human race. It’s running on its third year or so, this being plagued by the thought of my existence and, finally, my nonexistence – i.e. death.

What awaits for us? There is just simply nothing? Or is there something more? A living person – no matter what new age and Christianity states – cannot know what lies in the beyond. Memory is a physical aspect – meaning, you need your brain and you need to experience. An “out-of-body experience” isn’t all that out-of-body, if you think of it. If your soul/mind left your body, there is no physical part of you that is experiencing it. Therefore, there should be no memory of anything having happened.

The best way to explain this is the short storyLazarus” by John Connolly – found in the strangest of places, a zombie anthology entitled The New Dead. We already know the tale of Lazarus – in fact, it’s so ingrained in our popular culture that anytime a resurrection takes place, the fellow’s name is stapled on to it. Lazarus, the man raised from the dead by the Nazarene. When asked what lies in the beyond, he cannot turn up an answer. He doesn’t remember, just darkness. This enrages those around him. It eventually leads to his re-death. At the end, Connolly writes, “Lazarus closes his eyes as the stone descends. And Lazarus remembers.”

A New, New Model

So what is this that I feel? Why is my hand trembling? Why do I feel the tears building? This isn’t depression. This isn’t anger. This isn’t me putting on the show for others. This is me, absolute Willie. Guillermo without the Ennui mask. This is how it’s like to be human, isn’t it? And as the sentimentality kicks in. As the hope sets in. As I finally see what Samwise Gamgee is going on about.

The world is a very ugly place. People are monsters. And while a part of me will always want to see it burn, this new version of me realizes that even a small ounce of beauty is worth fighting for.