satyr

I’m a foreigner in my own country. An alien on my own planet. Wondering around, looking for something I will never find. Twisted faces and fucked up minds. Does it matter if you die today? Tomorrow? Or when you’re 100 years old? Everyday I deal with dick holes and eat shit. Its required that I have a smile on my face the whole time. Critics and ass fuckers . This world is filled with them. Sleeping three hours a night, get up, eat shit, come home, and try to sleep some more. Day in, and day out. If you want to get anywhere in this world, you have to suck cock. If you don’t like to suck cock, then you have to eat shit. If you don’t like either, you become a bum on the streets. The average Joe. He gets up every morning. Eats the same breakfast everyday. Drives his same shitty car to his same shitty job. Joe fills up on shit, and of course, smiles while he’s doing it. One day Joe will put a gun in his mouth, and smiles, as he blows the shit out of his head. Are you still reading this? Am I still writing this? Okay… We cant live alone. We’re never alone, maybe in our heads, but still. The human species has evolved. TV’s and computer’s have become a need. Going out in public, all I can hear is clicking. Click, click, click. People cant speak to each other anymore. Click, click, click. Always looking down at their cell phones. Click, click, click. Sending text messages to each other. Click, click, click. OMG we have nothing to say, A&F! Click, click, click. LOL, we’re creating a new language, A3! Click, click, click. AAMOF, its ABFT that we stop this! Click, click, click. But for some reason , I ACGAF! Click, click, click. IMO, its fucking dumb! Click, click, click. It’s a disease. Click, click, click. And it wont fucking stop! It wont stop! Stop! Stop! Stop… Click, click, clicking! On June 28 an SUV driven buy 17-year-old Bailey Goodman swerved into oncoming traffic and hit a truck head-on, killing herself and her four passengers instantly. Now, a report from the police states that cell phone use may have been a factor. Dana Trammellhad been text messaging someone while driving on her way to school. It was the first day of school, and it was her senior year. She wrecked and was thrown from the car causing massive head trauma, and was pronounced dead at the scene. She was buried in her pageant tiara, which she loved. Does any of this information matter? A couple of bad accidents. Can I really blame that damn clicking for the deaths of these people? Can I? Yea I can. Will this make the clicking stop? No. No it wont. Its gotten to the point where I can hear nothing but clicking. When I think I’m alone. Trying to sleep at night. On my way to school. While I’m in school. At work. In the bathroom. Weird thing is, I don’t text. But I can still hear it, its all around me. Click, click, click. I’ve smoked pot everyday since late 2006. Self medication, if you will. A crutch. A cradle. Anyway you put it. At first I treated her as a weekend slut. Then my everyday lover. Now my hated ex. Where is our shaman? Guiding us through rough times. Has technology become our modern day shaman? The media? Telling us what’s wrong and what’s right? Forcing ideas into the mind. Drilling a hole in my head and pissing all over my brain. I was talking to a Vietnam veteran about the media a while back. He told me to never believe anything the news says. Every word is a lie. Anytime a news show would come on, he would leave the room. Why then, do we follow the media in such a way? As if it were our shaman. If all technology just stopped working (TV, cell phones, computers, cars, everything and anything that runs on electricity, batteries, or fuel), where would we be? Set back thousands of years. Total chaos. Lost without our shaman. Jungles of metal and concrete. Nothing would be real anymore. Just a dream floating in the fog. The human race would be force into the dark. Darkness, the old friend. Simple things would kill the fragile human body. The common flu, chicken pox, etc. Perhaps new and unimaginable illnesses would appear. We take our technology and time for granted. Sometimes I think what life would be like in the wilderness. To get away from civilization, and people in general. What kind of a man would I become? A distorted image of my former self? Or a golden image? Free from worrying about getting to work on time, or pleasing my girlfriend. No more thoughts on the way I dress, wear my hair, or what I smell like. What if death finds me out in the woods? Taking me down the stream, one last time. Where does this stream lead? Into the shadows, deep in the night. What happens when you die? A question we all have asked ourselves. Energy cannot be created or destroyed. Our bodies turn to dirt, and become part of the earth. So what is consciousness? Is it a form of energy? If it is, then it can not be created or destroyed. I hope there is some sort of life after death. A heaven. Reincarnation. More than likely we are on a perfect rock, bobbing around in space. Oversized bacteria. No after life. No God or supernatural beings. Only living in the now. Pure weirdness. That describes me. Just more words in another sentence, and it all means nothing. Maybe I mean nothing. Maybe my reality means nothing. Who knows? What if my reality is a simple, yet complex game. Chess. We’re all just another piece on the board. Thinking out every move, in hopes that we’ll win in the end. The average Joe, just a pawn in the game. He thinks out every move, but he knows he will never win alone. He needs the knight, the rook, the queen, and the master mind behind it all. What if his master, the general, is a fool? Joe will probably die in this game. If words of command are not clear and distinct, if orders are not thoroughly understood, the general is to blame. Heat is distributed. As is water. These currents are vital to life. Thoughts are distributed. As is blood. These currents are vital to life... Back from the dead. Complicated people. Very rare people, hiding in the crowd. If you want to call them ’people’. Shit, everything turned mad! I’m sorry, I’m not the person you think I am. Blood shot eyes with a pale face. Its my 9th symphony. Greatest work of all. Walking down a dark hallway, with no end. Black bricks covered the walls. Was I in hell? Or on my way to hell? Perhaps that moment marked a new era of my life? I almost died that night, and no one could tell me why. Since then, I wanted to die. Put a gun in my mouth and blow the shit out of my head, just like Joe. That would be too easy. I want to die in an elaborate way. Maybe go sky diving, and not pull my shoot. Just crash into the ground. Become a human pancake. That’s one way I would like to die. Falling. Its symbolic. I’m literally falling, and falling out of life. I feel no weight as I fall. Soon all the weight will be lifted. Yet still, its too easy.

Ana Kata

Clap clap, Chuck.