S T R eam # 4 7

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God only knows. Only God knows. That’s, assuming God is playing attention. Or, rather, PAYING attention. And why would He? ’Tis all foolishness. Perhaps ’tis all for His amusement. That’s what methinks anyway. We’re toys. Playthings. That’s what methinks. Makes sense. ’Tis all so so so SO so so SO so S-O-S so-so foolish. Meaningless. Insane. Stupid. Why? Well, were it meaningful, why such silliness just to find the right cow to milk? Apologies, this is not working out the way I’d hoped. What does? Nothing does. Hencethus, I want to stop hoping. I want to stop nighttime shenanigans. No, not really. I want to PARTICIPATE in nighttime shenanigans. Yes, that’s it. Why not? Well, for starters, I’m too hairy. What’s more? A tad short. And to top it off: “orange” haired. That’s what “they” say, anyway. “They” call it, “orange.” Bottom line: These physical characteristics are NOT in demand – that is, if you’re endeavoring to attract a heterosexual female Homo sapiens of reasonable beauty. But when have said characteristics EVER been in demand? And here you are, suggesting that I dye my hair, if not jet black, then hot pink. Or, both. aNd ThAT’s JUsT iT. WHY, pray tell, give in to such superficiality? What does THAT say? It says you “up the chances” of getting into some chick’s pants. Mayhap. Who the fuck knows? I don’t. I’m not sexy. Worse, I’m fast becoming an old fart. Albeit an old fart in pretty good shape. Who cares? God knows. Why? What does it take to go to the place where they have all that fun? And HOW, exactly, to have fun? HOW, exactly, to have the freedom to embrace that wildness without fear. The choice is not there. The choice is not with the one who is not sexy. “They” say that sexy is a state of mind. “They” say you can sexy-up yourself even if you are not naturally sexy. “They” don’t know what they’re talking about. YOU don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know what you’re writing about. (But then that’s the point.) “They” laugh. (Heartily) You laugh. (Feebly.) You’re laughing. ha-ha. You’re not in the tub. They’re in the tub. They’re kissing and groping and caressing each other. They’re not thinking about you – about me. It is a closed circuit. That threesome. How lucky for you. For them. No one can ever accuse you of leading a dull life. Me, I’m all things Dull. Hencethus, I am envious. But that is my normal state. Not that I haven’t been trying to change that. But change is hard. For me it is. Mamet wrote, “If you have something to fall back on, you usually do.” That might not be an exact quote. But it’s pretty close. Either way, nobody cares. No, that’s not true. A few care. The ones who care, you don’t care about. Karma.* You’ve done worse. You deserve all this emotional crap. You do. You’ve broken a heart – several – at least two – that you are aware of – and you’ve now had yours broken. No, yours has always been defective. Broken. Worse. What’s to do? PRESS ON. FORGET. Time helps. Time and distance. If only I could better focus on the present – what’s right in front of me. I’ve so much trouble with that. I’m either dwelling on the past or dwelling on pure fantasy. Not erotic fantasy. Well, maybe – but not where I’m involved. It’s always painful: envy and jealousy and desire. Because I’m a touch too short, and a touch too doughy, and, as “they” say, “orange” haired (that’s right, from head to toe, more or less). Plainly: I’m not “hot.” I’m just: Not. I am Desire’s Opposite. Bitch, moan, bitch, bitch. Ooooh, poor, poor pathetic me. You. KNOCK IT OFF. You’ll get over it. I’ll get over it. Have before. Will again. Bottom reached. 

23 July 2008 

*[Mind, if you’ve gotten this far, there is no reward for reaching the end. Nevertheless, you have my thanks. On the other hand, you’d be much better off reading If Anyone Builds It, Everyone Dies. (In sooth, I’m currently listening to the audio book version. By “currently,” I mean when I’m shaving, or eating lunch, or dusting/vacuuming my humble abode.) But if not that, why not try, God, Human, Animal, Machine? But if not that, please consider: Homo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow. That is, unless you haven’t yet read, Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind. And of course there’s always, Determined: A Science of Life Without Free Will. Whatever you do, odds are, you’ll be much better off by limiting, or eliminating, if possible, your screen time and, probably, tending to a garden, or a modest farm, far, far away from the rest of modern civilization. Yeah. Why not try the Amish thing? But then that’s only delaying the enviable. Or, rather, the inevitable. If you want to be a hero, and you have the skillset, please consider coding a virus that will brick damn near every data center on the planet. Short of that, we’re all fucked.] 

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