8:27 p.m. - 2006-11-08
En-Courage: promoting cowardice
The human condition. The plague. the bug. Whatnext? It is people killing people for a so called "cause." This has not made sense in centuries, years, months, weeks, but most importantly seasons. Bloody October; Autumn is burning with the blood from bodies swearing they are making a difference, or at least hoping they are. We will honor these people some day with ribbons and graves, but what good is that? Do the dead care what we do to remember them when they are dead? I would not. In fact, I hope no one brings me flowers. Flowers in cemetaries are lonely. Lonely in the sense of living love, meaning that someone is still missing that person in the ground, someone is still so lonely because of it. This is the human condition, we are our own plague. We kill one another one by one and no one survives. No one makes it out alive and indiviually, we make very little difference. As individuals we are insignificant. Our lives are that of a pencil point breaking- a minor inconvenience, sure, but no real heartbreak. Can we escape it? Can you escape death? No. Can you stop being part of the "we"? It's doubtful. It's deconstruction and analysis and flat out decompression where something that is normally full of life is sucked dry and laid flat in order to be understood; a means of destroying and stripping it of any beauty and mystery that was left for the sake of a potential learning experience. I believe the country coded years ago. Perhaps this DNR society would like to wake the hell up and maintain its own airway. Then again, smog is in style again, and that does awful things to the respiratory system. There are too many ways to pronounce these diseases, so we make it up and we add in letters and maybe we know the origin, but what does that tell us? Just because you know where Hell starts doesn't guarentee you know where you will meet it. After all, you might come home one day after a long afternoon and see the devil dancing in the doorway conversing with the antichrist who is standing with such a deliberate stance as to inspire a dreadful awe, while simply co-existing with you in your kitchen. You might meet violence in the bedroom and scars in the dresser amd have a sudden urge to change your skin. Maybe she's just helping! Stop jumping to conclusions! Stop! Stop taking pictures! And stop getting shorter. Regression is what happens when you grow up, and you aren't allowed to do that, so just stop! Maybe you'll meet sickness in the sandbox and hear drama bellowing from the swingset nearby and no matter how long you try to stay neutral and sit in isolation on the park bench even the pathway to apathy eventually leads to concern for a common cause. And before you know it, you're fucking part of it and the only way out, is to accept the plague, accept that you are a bug, accept the mass murder, and simply remind yourself that you're living science vs. romance. And you're constantly losing. But the score is still 1 to 1. Believe to lie. Lie to believe.
