Everything’s Ruined/Nothing Works
Hello my delicious sinners. You look sad. What’s the matter? Still languishing in the horror of your own samasarian nightmares? Poor you. You have my sympathies, you really do. It’s not, after all, your fault so why pressure ourselves unnecessarily with personal responsibilities? I mean, look around. It’s not like you weren’t being used like a tool from the very day you were born, wrapped in darkness like a boiled sweet before being thrown into the maw of reality and instead of sweet suck the molars of Fate chewed on you as if you were nothing more than a second hand piece of bubble gum.
Or was it? Don’t shake you head at me. You know what I’m talking about. No, it’s not dirt in my eye, and I only flash my smile when I sense a kindred soul.
Ah, that’s right, there are so many reasons, aren’t there? There is this and there is that. But what does “it” all mean in the end? Oh, you wonder, or you doubt, and you question or you accept. You build frameworks that are like towers with weak foundations, and sometimes you bother to rebuild after inevitable catastrophe, other times you just stare at the ruin and pop a handful of medication.
And so you don’t even see the quicksand, either way.
Or do you? I don’t know. Perhaps you can, perhaps you can’t. It’s all academic really. Perhaps you believe that you have an immortal soul. Perhaps you think you’ll be coming back – although one might ask if, given the current rate of extinction, what you’ll be coming back to.
I can see you shrug and play your get out of jail free card as you tell me that you’ll just reincarnate backwards. Clever stick. As for those who are going to Heaven, or Hell, depending on just how guilty they feel, perhaps you’d like to place a bet on whether it looks like a white collar office – I mean, after all, isn’t modern, western society the pinnacle of the evolutionary process? The great chain of being and all that guff?
Yeah, I’d be thinking about maybe fixing that……
Because all I hear is about how everything is ruined, about how it used to be better in the old days, how nothing works any more. Perhaps that’s a problem with nostalgia – you know, from the Greek – nostos (to go home/return) and algos (pain/ache). You want to go back but it hurts. Doesn’t this tell you something? Perhaps you’re just holding yourself back. Perhaps you’re living in the past.
A bit like those silly suppositions of political leanings and cultural stances and history and tradition. Nothing is set, it’s all fluid. Look what happens when you can’t keep up the pace, you fall behind and start blaming that huge cheeseburger you had for lunch for the cramp in your foot that’s keeping you from passing the baton to the next runner who wants to step up on the podium and fix everything.
Well, that’s not how it works. Or is it? I confuse even myself sometimes, but that’s okay because if I break myself, I’m just creating my own problem, and then I just tell myself that I’m the cure to my own madness. Crow, I say to myself, if you weren’t half as intelligent as you pretend to be then you’d be twice as thick as you could have been.
I give myself a wink, ruffle my feathers and clear my thoughts. It’s all bullshit, of course, but then that’s what we’re all really good at: filling our minds with bullshit and then flinging it at each other in an attempt to solve problems that didn’t really exist until someone else told you they did.
And like a broken record the public speakers go on and on about how everything is ruined and nothing works.
It’s all so tedious.
But just stick your fingers in your ears and ignore me. Most people do when they’re walking along and see me stooped on a park bench, talking to the air. It’s probably a no smoking area, but my clouds come from the gift of fire. Sure, it’s easier to ignore me, rather than letting me pierce the veil of cotton wool that keeps you from living instead of worrying about every little detail.
You don’t want me to set you on fire.
Carry on. After all, no one’s paying you to read this, are they? And if they are then how about slipping me a a few coins while I disingenuously proffer awkward solutions to those that listen while paradoxically claiming everything is where it is supposed to be and everything is fine.
It is, isn’t it? Look out your window. Is the meteor coming down? Wait a moment while I try to pull them back…..
There goes the curtain rail. No shutting it out now.
Hmmm? What’s that you say? The sky is looking a little orange?
Oh, I’m sure that’s just a nice, rich sunset. After all, it must be getting on for tea time and I hear that book burnings are coming back into fashion.
Why, it really does look perfectly fine out there to me.
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