Me and the meteorologists know that summer is done for when Labor Day arrives — everything after that revolves around moving off heat and vacation schedules and into going back to school/work and prepping for the vicious, unrelenting pumpkin spice storms brewing, so far as I can tell, mostly in my sister-in-law's kitchen. I don't know why Trump was talking about nuking a hurricane some time back, because that's just silly, but if he instead landed a low-yield cruise missile on my brother's place, it would cure the pumpkin spice pandemic in a three-state area.
It's the beginning of the yearly ennui which accompanies an onrushing fuck-me-I'm-getting-old birthday and is followed by grim winter nights which are upwards of a week long each, during which I will write grinding little treatises about cold gray subjects drifting like bitter swirls of dirty snow into dark, forgotten corners of my soul.
Or some damned thing or another.
So there's that to look forward to plus there are a writing-related pile of notes I've accumulated lately which must be addressed. This will be tricky as they say things like
"Calamity Jane. Korea vet. Kitch" (sic - I think I meant 'kitsch' although it's possible I was trying to remember something in the kitchen at the greasy spoon we were at).Some of this stuff I vaguely recognize and remember what I was trying to remember, so to speak. The rest is just random noise that sounds like something I heard in passing once, which is to say I'll just have to make something up.
"Joke toilet in room. WIFI trouble. Space age remote for tv. Butt cans by rooms. Fold up bed."
"REALLY fresh bear shit. Like slushy, probably still warm. She's convinced it's cow. I don't point out that cows hardly ever leave bear fur stuck to trees they're scratching on. She's happy, so that's ok. I adjust the large-bore auto on belt, keep watch, subtle — her, like a kid wading and looking for gold. Happy. Waters fucking freezing."
"No gold she (unreadable a big stretch, water drop smearing) "sapphires."
"Lake — turquoise dragonflies. Later in town little girls in turquoise summer dresses."
"The lottery tickets suckers, decorticated by hope and numerology…'Timequake' Vonnegut"
"God save us from friendly guys in the line in front of me who want to talk to the clerk when I'm trying to get something done. (CPL)"
Anyhow, there's junk to be written. I just gotta write it, but I keep getting sidetracked.
For example, I was thinking of doing a thing on "Virtue Signalling" by inventing a satiric company that makes non-plastic straws out of recycled cardboard.
They wouldn't work at all of course, but would be completely biodegradable, and I mean OBVIOUSLY biodegradable so you get props for using it. It would be basically brown in order to signal your strong opposition to institutionalized white supremacy. Much of the color scheme would be ribbon-o'-the-week optional, but would always have a pro-gay rainbow band around it and be tipped with red on both ends, one end to represent the blood of baby seals spilled in the Arctic and the other to show solidarity with the native Americans whose stolen land grew the tree the straw was made out of.
They'd go for $0.50 each, which can be considered a conscience tax on you being such a selfish, uncaring, white-bread American shitbucket in the first place, with $0.25 being evenly split and sent to random organizations who print poorly-formatted flyers about each of these Important Causes And Needs that, as always, you're responsible for creating.
Of course, I'd keep the other $0.25 in order to fund Deep Thinking to create other new ideas to change the world. I'd collect only enough CEO salary to keep the company in 501c3 "Nonprofit" status.
'Cause I'm a giver like that.
Imagine it. You, struggling with your $0.50, non-functional straw every time you want to suck down a tasty beverage while attending the monthly Rich-Bitch Peepul's Equality Workers Committee And BBQ over at Bob's house out by the pool. Everyone will see what a forward thinker you are, and it totally counts as a contribution toward Social Justice. You've done paid your dues, you virtuous pure soul you, and everyone in your tribe will know it.
Brings a tear to my eye, really it does.
It's fucking near as good as actually doing something useful, and you don't even have to break a sweat. Realistically, it probably contributes more to Good And Righteous Causes than any other "my shit don't stink" whiny-bitch slacktivist thing you've done in your life so far, and advertises what a neat person you are to EVERYONE.
Of course, I know it's TOTALLY not why you're doing any of this stuff 'cause, really, how sad would that be? But it doesn't hurt that this thing is better than Instagram/Tumblr/Wordpress/Twitter combined. It's like having Kim Kardashian's press agent on call anytime you need to boost your "Gawd I suck, but I'm struggling almost like Gandhi to make the world a better place" cred with your Comrades and getting a quick warm fuzzy from them all to encourage you in The Struggle.
Anyhow, as I said, I was going to write a parody piece about it, but it turns out we're beyond parody these days, as evidenced by the fact that it occurred to me that I could probably actually make money out of this idea. So, I've been experimenting with rolled-up construction paper instead of writing. Expect an announcement soon.
In fact, mention this blog entry and I'll get you a price break on purchases of 100 or more of the new "No, Really, I Give A Shit" straws.
Hmm. May have to work on the name. Stand by for the GoFundMe address.
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| Appalachian Snake Handlers Signalling Virtue To Their Tribe |
How's MY life? It's ridiculous. I'm doing a lot of things wrong. But I am writing with more regularity. It's all for The Book that I've been "writing" for quite a few too many years now. But I can say there's been recent progress.
ReplyDeleteGood. That kinda falls into line with my ongoing immersion in Stoicism and borderline Dao/Tao philosophies, particularly those parts which involve living in the moment, letting go and emptying myself of what I don't control. Even Jesus purportedly said to focus on today -- tomorrow will take care of itself. All this is combined with , dealing with life as it comes. As Seneca et al would say "Quod obstat viae fit via"; "What obstructs the way is made the way."
ReplyDeleteIt's really hard to do, but I'm slowly learning to not worry about the championship or the game or even the next goal, but just doing this exact second what is in front of me, the next thing. It's terribly difficult letting go of things I don't control, and I'm not much good at it yet, but I'm getting there. And when I get into that zone, I can write the next sentence, and the next, and the paragraph, and the chapter, and it's enough. I may be the next Steven King. Or I may just wake up dead tomorrow. Most likely somewhere in between, but neither are in my control. Just this next sentence is what I'm doing, right now, and the rest will follow as it will.
“Drink your tea slowly and reverently, as if it is the axis on which the world earth revolves - slowly, evenly, without rushing toward the future.”
Yeah. Harder than it looks, though, especially for us control freaks.