Came back to and from the city. Late. Zoning through non-places, non-people settling the limited headspace. Feelings of dread….surviving another day. Live and let live the unsung mantra, quietly subdued in some dusty corner. We inject children with brand names like “luck”, generic trademarks like “justice”, and proprietary eponyms like “maturity” to compartmentalize friends in high places. We raise them, surrounded by numbers, mathematical equations, traffic jams, electrical conduits, la-z boys, and saucers. We plead with them to think logically, to not do anything rash, and we teach them great historical figures, cutthroat spontaneity and cruel, unpredicted lapses of judgments as their legacy. I surrender. I surrender myself to homicidal rage. I surrender myself to 300% markups. I surrender myself to mini-construction sites scattered throughout the airport. Gate 64, main terminal, B72, E4. Your seat is to the left. Mind the gap.
Lately I’ve become increasingly desensitized. Healthier people drop a plate and flinch then get annoyed or angry but I relish in the broken shards. Blank face. Flat affect. Sometimes I get an urge to ######. I am aware of the root of these problems. Desiring paralysis. Stripped away of some unachievable pipedream and now marching towards decay, entropy. Don’t know what entropy quite means but if enough people believe in chaos it subsides. Chaos does not thrive in normality, in coherence, in structured patterns. To be irrational isn’t to make sudden moves, it’s to go against, by all means, to the best of your effort, the moral compass you’ve carefully honed from experiences and lessons taught by entropy. Inklings of sensibility translated into meaningful life lessons that served as an evolutionary tactic to mate, to survive. Me standing by chaos is an oxymoron. Chaos is an animist who is everywhere all at once. To betray chaos is the chaotic move. Should you embrace it, but continue life normally, would actual peace be achieved. Unlearn yourself.
Chaos eventually finds you. You don’t delve into madness, no, but the numbness helps to deal with the uncertainty. That much IS certain. Some people are consumed by work. A regimen to avoid entropy. Some people live in utter filth. Believing a pigsty could repel it or worse, that this is the lowest blow it could give. The irony is how entropy serves as the Great Equalizer. Even if you lived your life to 101%, it’ll simply divide by zero. No work is gone but madness ensues, The whims of life could be better handled by holding important “stuff” in your possession. “Money” is “stuff”. A “job” is “stuff”. “Family” is “stuff”. ”Friends”, “Peers”, “Guns”, “Meditation”, “Medication”, “Books”, “Philosophy”, “Fish oil tablets”, “Dyson”, “Significant Other”, all “stuff”. Emotional tools that keep your head above the raging waves. By logic, “chaos” is just “stuff”. Equally important. Equalized by its folly. Use chaos against chaos. Midlife crises don’t count. Hoard more, and let it all go at once, but always remember: even zero, can be divided by zero. The rest is muscle memory.
I woke up when it was still drizzling at 5:53 AM. Usually, I wouldn’t’ve known there was rain to begin with since by the time I went out (big if) the moisture would’ve dried up in the concrete, in the asphalt, and other road-like materials I could not aptly name (which, upon further research, I have pretty much named them all). For some reason, suppose both the rejuvenation and deep remorse for sleeping over 10 hours have compelled me to step downstairs and look at the raindrops. The air was cool and I think the weather app told me it was 16 degrees Celsius out and the breeze had taken away some awful clot I hadn’t noticed all this while. It didn’t bleed but I can start to feel a scab forming. I see early birds at the bus stop, cars scarcely driving by, their head/taillights reflected by the puddles on the pavement, straight into my cornea, my iris, my photoreceptors, binding, blinding me briefly, and the air, ice cream-like, had filled up my lungs like turkey stuffing. I was awake. I toy with my keys to hear its jingle, reassuring I didn’t lock myself this time around.
As I was walking back up I remembered about the patio in my apartment.
I’ve since dismissed the idea of a diary due to my spite with routines in general, fueled primarily by my inability to follow through & develop habits but also my unfounded hatred (and fear) of this ending up to be an approx. facsimile of life coach habit books. You’re telling me that the 5;55 AM today is the same 5:55 AM yesterday AND tomorrow AND the day before yesterday AND the day after tomorrow AND etc etc? Makeup details, fill in the gap, scratch an imaginary, made-up itch created to hold you down and assimilate you. If I’m bogged down by the details it’s just a waste of time/ Same can be said if I had a photographic memory. Why would I need to journal then? Because my thoughts could derive more than an accurate retelling of events each day. Assigning a meaningless barcode to the “the” is dystopian at best, and bureaucratic at worst. What good does it do for me to tell people that my thought no. 985237416134670895 had occurred on so and so? The year is even less vital to survival. 2012 Obama, 2016 Trump. 2020 Biden…but also 2012 END OF THE WORLD. Muddying up Obama & the apocalypse is frivolous. Same goes for this.
In any case, I’ve tried to let my listless days sink in as a scot-free offence. Soon I won’t find the time (or at least I’ll tell myself) to read, write, listen, look, jump, enjoy, relax, watch, etc.. I’ll be a skeleton, figuratively, and savour my private hell with a private cell(phone). I tried to evaluate how comforting my voice would be to blind folks. I closed my eyes and spoke. I would read to the blind, I thought.
No energy as of late. It’s either a drawn-out jetlag or I’m fulfilling my wish of successfully hibernating. Deep REM sleep seems to occur whenever I trey to take short naps. Fell asleep yesterday at 7 and woke up at 12. Thought, “:what the hell” then slept for another 5. Now I’m tired again, but not the usually k kind I would chant as a slogan. Heavy eyelids, bouncing knee to maintain kinetic energy o something, blinking longer, weary like a parasite, a sleeper agent virus activated, encroaching all parts of my limbs, torso, rear, and most my brain being sung a gentle lullaby, lulling me to nod off at any given moemn
…yesterday my mouth was a pent-up hose. Bad Japanese food came flooding out. Two weeks since the Big Bang. Only should one demolish can one begin to rebuild. I am agnostic; leaning animism-adjacent by proxy. Accelerationist apocalyptic acolyte accolade. Sunny days give you skin cancer. Smoky air makes your lungs fail. Electrocurrents, amperage, watts-per-capita. We sit and mourn, decomposing, watching the decomposed. Standing in the present, remembering the past, looking at our future. Humans are abled. I use the disabled whenever I can. Mortals can picture the dead. Simians are equipped with opposable thumbs. I reach behind and wipe. How many things can you bring to nature? How many lessons should one unlearn from history in order to live in harmony with the wild? Victorians figured out the harm of dumping excrement everywhere. Is there a designated outpost in your hut? A shitpile marked by ISO-compliant pictograms, deep within the foliage? New-age medicine, Rx, calculus, migration of the birds, deep-sea sonar tech, SETI, Fjällräven vine sacks, LocknLock-Rubbermaid wooden bowls with lotus leaf lids, storing non-perishables. Honey. tree sap, gum, flavour-resistant and Neapolitan-flavored. Gelato, 20% less fat, trans-fat-free flowers. Edible thyme, edible bananas. Genetically-modified-oranges, ananas, purple-flavored grapevine. Pruno, moonshine, hemp, stolen hotel Bibles. Papyrus, pulp, answering machines. I walk down a non-functioning escalator, thinking about passengers who stand perfectly still on moving walkways in airports. Primordially afraid of sudden moves.
A prey.