Is the simplest explanation always the best?
…they’ve been told that god is mysterious, unfathomable, so to then incoherence is the closest thing to god.” -Umberto Eco
Don’t particularly mind the turn the world has taken recently to fundamentalism. There’s nothing wrong with that type of control as it obviously serves a purpose. The problem I have is the obvious void between the extremes. Nature will be able to deal with man’s wants. They can be no worse than the aftermath of a comet striking our surface, or a tsunami swallowing a continent, or perhaps a geological fault-line finally giving way and taking what was once prosperous, serene and beautiful and wiping it into oblivia at the blink of an eye. No, the problems arise when man’s needs become the reason for his or her actions. His needs are the fictional truths on which so much is founded. The way we live for example. It’s all a bad story, really. But because it’s so ingrained and without substantiated alternatives, there is no possibility to break from the fiction of our truth. (The truth we tell ourselves. The truth we insist on believing it–even though there is no imperial evidence. Imperial anything. Except imperial lands.) A need is so real such a significant part of the emotional psyche, to brea its hold on our collective conscience is beyond anything fathomable in nature. I think.
In the mist of a bull-frog laden life, I just lost, for the first time in my life, $100. I will repent in my mind for years to come this frivolous transition where I mixed the death of rock-bands lead singers. (Being so obsessed after an afternoon of argument and debate without conclusion, I was hell-bent on finally trying to not just win and argument but also bring one to an end. I lost the money in the process.) I mixes up Blind Melon and Stone Temple Pilots. I think. I don’t now why I have believed for more than ten years that Weland was dead. It was the arguing that got me there. Combative. I must learn to control it. But I am (at this point in life) a real asshole. And I must change or try to change. My flight plans back to Germany. I won’t be able to handle this so-called friendship much longer. Nor will I be able to handle my age much longer. I can get rid of the friends but what about the/my age? At least today I was able to spend some time in the water. The Atlantic. My only friend. Did myself good. I can still fee, as I write these silly words, the slight sting from the ocean. Initially overly cold but the will to drawn in it was too much (if I only had the courage). It was as though she was calling me. Saying that I am your friend. Saying that I should come to her (instead). It’s not far. A swim. A few miles out. A short lung based struggle and then it would be over. I would be a carcass. Finally. It would finally end.