. . . PRIMAL DISILLUSIONMENTS . . .
1.
I just had a conversation with someone about Final Fantasy VII, a game I enjoyed fondly in my youth. This person asked, "Why didn't they just use a Phoenix Down on Aeris?"
I answered with a howl as my cosmos became cinders and ashes.
2.
I used to live in a filthy house in Florida with five or six other people. We were idealistic Florida Men-banded together to show the world we were not just beer-swilling, pot smoking fuck-ups sapping the precious finite resources of the planet. No: we had plenty to offer the world in the fields of food service, direct marketing, and vape shop management.
The roaches were bold yet slow. They would just take up positions on the walls, the floor, and the ceiling, and just not move very much.
I became worried, so I made some brownies-my mother's own recipe-and tried to get the insects to eat. But they were apathetic, unresponsive-not even the spirit of my mother's love could rouse them to partake of such fine treats.
"What's wrong?" I asked the Roach Commander.
"What's the point?" the Commander said. "We were supposed to inherit the Earth after you lot annihilated yourselves with nuclear weapons or runaway climate change. Now, our comrades in the Science Division of the Termite Nation tell us that our bodies have co-evolved to be far too dependent upon climate controlled environments. When your murderous human civilization finally collapses, so too will we follow you into the abyss."
"You sure you don't want a brownie? They contain my mother's love."
The Roach Commander gave me a hard look, and said, "I'm sure your mother is a fine person, but I prefer to end my days dining on stoic pride."
"I . . . can't eat all these brownies by myself."
"You are a human. You never fail to eat more than your fair share. "
"Commander, please, I-"
"Step on me, if I offend, but I shall speak to you no more."
The Roach Commander lapsed into angry silence.
I gorged myself on mother's brownies. Her love did not stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks.
3.
That feeling you had
deep in your heart
that Nixon wasn't a crook
but IF HE DID DO SOME CRIMINAL SHIT
well
surely it was for the good of the nation
and anyways
you were always more of a Goldwater Republican,
right?
Shit never stops working out for your ass.
4.
Monogamy betrayed me once,
my partner cheated;
and then I betrayed Monogamy,
I cheated,
or was it the other way 'round?
neither possibility is a bother to me,
except for the guilt of hurting someone's feelings,
but such transgressions are inevitable
when you are bound to another
in holy matrimony
wandering a Labyrinth of Commitment
dreaming of escape
as one and one set lethal traps for each other
so I decided
HEY
I need to fuck with people who swing
so I hooked up with the polyamory crowd
which was cool for a good stretch
chasing many horny people
through a Labyrinth of Desire
was so cool
until it wasn't
until everyone was jealous of everyone else's action
until all twenty-five of us were fighting a multifront war to the knife
no end in sight
World War I, Korea, Vietnam, The War on Drugs, and The Forever War on Terror had nothing on this quagmire
and that shit
I must admit
made me long for the exquisite joy
of being in a one-on-one death duel
with just one other worthless fuck
as opposed to swarms of fucks coming at me
from all directions-
but then
in my darkest moment
I remembered the most important truth of them all:
a human being isn't irrational flesh or blood or spirit
maybe long ago
but not now
Now,
we're mostly hyper-rational microplastics
and if you concentrate real hard
and switch to a diet of little green army men and vintage M.U.S.C.L.E. and Monster in my Pocket figures
you can transform yourself into a factory
pumping and pooping out idealized ACTION COMPANIONS who will follow your orders to the letter
assemble vast ranks of rubbery soldiery
and topple all nations,
give the lie to all dominionist religions,
and know the One True Love
of Conquest Absolute
that points the way out of all Labyrinths
yes, yes, people,
it's all possible with plastic.
5.
Nixon spaketh to all the nation
saying,
"I'm not a crook."
And, verily, all the adults of the nation responded
saying,
"Good one, Dick!"
"No," Nixon said, "the media's out to get me, and the student movement, and Women's Liberation, and the Washington Post, and-and-"and here he lapsed into all kinds of racist terminology . . .
"Oh, Dickie! You're so silly! We just want to give you pinchies all over your adorable, sweaty jowls!"
And, so it came to pass, that the grownups of the nation DID give Tricky Dick Nixon cutesy pinchies all over his sweaty-ass jowls.
And, lo, the pinchies acted as a kind of therapeutic stimulus which DID firm up the Lying President's corrupt, flabby face until he resembled a somewhat more troubled-yet quite handsome-ringer for Burt Lancaster.
Nixon beheldeth his new image in a mirror, and said, "All along . . . it was the loving touch of my fellow humans that I truly needed-not an Enemies List-not unchecked power-not sideshow bombings in Cambodia . . "
And from that day forward, Nixon reformed his scumbag ways, and led the Nation to glory.
. . .and that is why we have only the best, the brightest, most moral people as President to this very day!
6.
The People despised their King
for the King was unjust, above the law, and tyrannical.
And so the people overthrew the King,
and elected a President,
who would be subject to rule of law.
Except . . . because the President embodies the collective will of the People,
and the People were vain and incapable of admitting their own desires for comfort and stability over the True Work of Democracy,
they decided the President should not be subject to rule of law.
And soon enough
a President waged unjust wars to inflict His Egoism upon the Earth,
while placating the People with empty nationalist rhetoric,
and the People were fat and happy,
for they had many slaves,
and Dissent was ruthlessly suppressed,
and All could glory in the might of their Ego-Writ-Bloated,
The Great Presidential Projection,
a President-as-King.
And the Nation did fall.
But the People barely noticed,
as one Presidential Ego Projection displaced another,
and all memory of the True Work of Democracy was systematically annihilated.
7.
I stopped going to the gym
I ceased all stretches and repetitive heavy-lifting motions
When I learned that cats purr at a sound frequency that enhances muscle tone and bone density,
Even sharpens their teeth and claws,
So I'm told.
So, yeah.
I just spend my days languidly purring
Eighteen hours at a stretch.
And I'm in the best shape of my life.
I can even do the bit where I lift up my leg,
Clean myself with my tongue,
Like it's the most natural thing.
8.
I went to the store
they had nothing I wanted to buy
yet I felt the impulse to buy something
but I could not bring myself to buy anything
I have just about everything
I'm not rich
I'm not poor
it's just that I have pretty durable furniture
I take care of the things I have
I have to buy perishables, sure, and things like soap, toilet paper, toothbrushes, toothpaste, dental floss,
maybe I'll buy some new clothes in another six months
laundry detergent, I'm stocked up on that
but there's nothing else really to buy
and it messes with my head
because I used to be a jubilant buyer of stuff
books, CDs, VHS tapes, DVDs, but I didn't buy any Blu-Ray discs 'til they started pricing 'em like DVDs,
and I guess I'll do the same with 4K;
but I don't buy video games anymore
I was big into video games,
but I got fed up with having to buy a new system every few years
my Game Boy Advance SP works fine
I got the really good Final Fantasy Games on it
and I don't care what anybody says: the Metroids and Castlevanias they released on GBA are great
even better when I ROMulate them on my big screen
I got all the ROMs and ISOs for all the games I'd ever want to play
and it messes with my head
I feel pressure from the eyebeams of others
they see that I've checked out of the Big Dream
and now I just buy the essentials
no cult of spend-joy stink comin' offa me
I'm the reason why they keep running out of plain black coffee at REDACTEDbucks
'cause I would never buy those sugary, syrupy drinks that cost too much
and other customers were inspired by what they saw
they figured my action, and soon enough, there were a bunch of us who only bought the black coffee,
no room,
not even sugar or cream,
so they started not brewing enough coffee just to get me and my crew to go away
a lousy trick
but now I feel eyebeam pressure on my ass at REDACTED-Mart
they know I'm not a True Believer
that I'm just buying what I need
no more, no less,
and illegally download the rest
I'm even looking into getting a bioreactor so I can grow my own meat from cell cultures
I have no knack when it comes to gardening
but I can grow some meats
I bet I can sell some meats to people in my neighborhood
I could probably be one of those guys who shows up in your driveway
trying to bullshit you into buying steaks out of a cooler in the bed of his pickup truck
and it feels like it's a screen memory out of an old alien abduction narrative you would hear on trashy tabloid programs in the '90s
"-last I remember, there was this truck. But something was wrong with it. Like it didn't quite touch the ground. Like it was a hover truck, but it had a slightly malfunctioning hologram-type gimmick-which doesn't usually work on me. I usually can-I can see right through their holograms. But they got me that day, I'm sure of it. 'Cause as I walked out to see who in the tarnation was pullin' up into the driveway, I lost consciousness, and woke up in my bed, fairly well rested. But I knew something was wrong. So, I did what I usually do whenever I have a missing time spell, and I self-administered an in-home semen check-it's basically like a dip stick with your car to check your oil except it's you do it on a person, you do it on yourself, and you're checking your semen levels. And I was about a quart low. Those extraterrestrials got me again. They harvested my seed yet again. Must be good to 'em, I guess."
well,
I'm not gonna be a creepy extraterrestrial semen extractor
but I will sell my meats, my bioreactor-grown meats
I could do that.
Maybe I'll start doing repro carts, load 'em up with ROMs, sell those, too.
I could also 3D print cheap apparel, cheap furniture,
I could even print guns and sell 'em to the NRA assholes,
print up a rubbery .44 Magnum with the face of Jesus on the handle,
but could I live with myself?
Oooo, maybe I could sell 3D printed semen dipstick level tester kits,
see if we got any alien abductees left to exploit.
Just because they ran the UFO programs off basic cable, doesn't mean the grays shut down EarthOps, right?
Instead of just wandering the depressing labyrinth of REDACTEDMart,
I could BECOME the REDACTEDMart.
What's the old joke? "Tonight, we're the band."
How did that go?
I don't remember, but I could do that.
Do it better than REDACTEDMart.
I could probably even incorporate the aesthetics of 1990s missing time alien abduction semen heists.
It's not about the concrete reality, more about the mood.
I'm so checked out these days,
I think I could invoke that atmosphere of
Was I really in that place? Or was it just a screen memory put into my mind to cover up an alien abduction? Is there a Space Jesus baby inside an alien womb partially made up of my semen cruising by Alpha Centauri?
Could be.
Watch out for Falling Sanity.
Only at Neo-REDACTEDMart.
9.
I have chair.
Just the one.
No doubt a shadow of the true platonic substance of Chair.
I've been told that I should buy another chair,
another shadow,
in case I have company.
I've never had company.
Is it a serious medical condition?
I have chair, and I sit on it, and that strikes me as a sufficient play of shadows,
I-a shadow of an ideal platonic Human
sitting upon the shadow of Chair.
But now company is on its way.
So I am told.
I am led to believe that this is basically a bunch of insubstantial beings together;
essentially
a bunch of shadows like myself
and some of us will prefer to stand,
and others may wish to sit upon an insubstantial chair or two,
and this is all to the purpose of creating a background hum of activity
within this spectral city,
I presume,
as Humans of Substance
enact a greater drama
maybe with great costumes,
magnificent flags flying,
a very clash of titans, no doubt.
I was content to sit alone with chair.
But now
maybe I and my shadows
my company
can look forward to becoming collateral damage
as epic Humans of Substance
rage and stomp and blast,
until all shadows are vanquished.
10.
TFW when you realize Dario Argento hasn't directed a watchable movie since half of 1990's Two Evil Eyes but that he's never stopped directing films to this very day.
11.
TFW you realize it actually feels better to stop exercising, and just drink a lot of beer, smoke a bunch of weed, and get lost in a never-ending warren of YouTube tunnels.
Say It With Me:
A SHORT BUT HAPPY LIFE IT SHALL BE!
(I got it tattooed across my chest, doncha know?)
12.
TFW you realize Tom Snyder is still a chainsmoker even though the network no longer allows him to light up on camera.
Best saddle up myself, and head out for Marlboro Flavor Country.
Here's to you, Snyder!
(lights up cigarette, sucks smoke deep into lungs, wails like Harvey Keitel in that scene in the church from Bad Lieutenant)
Oh, Universe . . . teach me to not unnecessarily shorten this life . . .
But why live so long and lack for that twitchy, chatty energy that the Snyder-Deity so wondrously embodied when He Walked Among Us?
Ah, me . . . the Horns! The Dilemma!
13.
TFW you tune into The Charles Grodin Show expecting his signature brand of droll comic timing only to be subjected to heavy-duty commentary on the outcome of the O.J. Simpson trial.
Ah, well.
I'll just wait for him to pop up on Letterman, when the laughter will return.
14.
TFW you know everything is going to be all right because your worthless ass is going away to the not-so-happy place.
Hey: at least now you know what people really think about you.
That's something.
15.
Let me share some cute little phrases I've had slung my way since I was a tiny fucker:
LIFE IS NOT FAIR.
TOUGH TITTY.
IF YOU DON'T LIKE THIS COUNTRY, THEN GET OUT!
LIFE IS PAIN.
KEEP IT TO YOURSELF.
I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANY COMPLAINTS.
EVERYBODY PAYS THEIR DUES.
Well,
recently
because no one was allowed to complain or criticize or talk about difficult emotions,
or point out certain flaws and inefficiencies and injustices,
or offer substantive, thoughtful critique of anyone in power or of the status quo in general,
or even a shallow, petty critique,
Well,
recently,
the whole goddamn thing
just flew the fuck apart
in all directions
with this awful, stormy, brain-bursting cacophony that would strike you dead just to hear the motherfucker
Except,
Well,
it didn't harm me a bit,
was rather lovely and musical, even,
because I was the true believer all those years,
and I ALWAYS followed the edicts embodied in those cute little phrases,
'til I became the invulnerable near-emotionless rage monster time bomb man
And,
Well,
The Everything That Was
got obliterated in that magnificent cacophony,
leaving only me
perfect obedient me
and the cacophony
And,
Well,
I gotta tell you
Me and the Cacophony
The Cacophony and Me
We do nothing but explode together
And dance beautifully,
Like a couple of atomic hurricanes
Doing a scorching lambada
For all times.
We tear it up,
neighbor,
We tear it up.
16.
In the fullness of time
I took on the wisdom of the message boards and the fan wikis
which informed me
that Phoenix Downs only work on unconscious party members
not one truly dead
insert VHS rewind effect
here
as my cosmos
kinda paradoxically
reassembles itself
from those melodramatic cinders and ashes
