“Writing is its own reward.” Henry Miller
I am sitting here without very much to do at the moment. I’m thinking,“ You know, you simply can’t sit around doing nothing.” I am not sure why it always has to degenerate into “doing something.”
My kitten, Shelby, was a huge success in my last story. I knew it would happen with FaceBook, kind of a good news technology. Although, I would not use it if it wasn’t for my writing, I have no smart ass, pomposity to drop on you. As far as I am concerned, in these incredibly fucked up times, whatever makes you smile, not at the expense of others, works for me.
I realize that last qualifier is part of the joy for so many, who are madly in love with hating. Unless I am mistaken, this whole deal began with some spoiled, reasonably bright, rich kid from a wealthy, NYC enclave, Westchester. He was at Harvard. What a shock! He wasn’t getting laid. He was pretty good with these emerging technologies. How about people putting up their faces, with stories to accompany them? “Hey, I am Mark, want to get together?”
I can’t imagine he thought he would be one of the richest people in the world today, competing in jiu jitsu tournaments. Of course, all these kinds of services are predicated on manipulating your habits, because it all translates to money for those, who don’t even need it at this point. By the way, Meta Man just removed any semblance of editing content, kissing the ring. In addition, the King of Ketamine is now the second most important person in the world.
God, I can get way laid on bullshit, following a period, ending a sentence having nothing to do with what follows. I’d apologize, but I keep doing it. I am sitting on my ass at home, with my second cup of coffee, Shelby on the couch and Israel Kamakawiwo’ole, singing, “What A Wonderful World.”
I have been living on Kaua’i for nearly twenty-two years. You know, when you type Kaua’i, it comes up as a misspelling, because of the ‘okina? It kind of ranks up there with the Gulf of America. Tradition keeps us connected to history and it is a sign of respect. The plethora of new technologies are predicated on obsolescence, running after a rabbit before it gets away and leaves you with nothing, but emptiness. “Wait, I see it, thank God.”
While I am it, let me mention intellectual arrogance and emotional ignorance, a lethal couple, if ever there was one. When artificial intelligence started gaining serious traction within the past few years, I was not a fan. The possibilities for scamming put the Nigerian Prince to shame. This morning, I read that when you die, you don’t really have to die. AI can keep you technologically alive. All you have to do is spend enough time with the machine, until it gets to know you. Grieving friends and relatives will be able to speak with, as if you are still around. Right there, is a prime example of the lethal bedfellows I referred to above.
We will likely come up with ways to outsmart Nature. Living in an unnatural world is not living, the quintessence of spiritual ignorance, a close cousin of its emotional twin. The world is warming and billions of people are starving, while hatred is epidemic. Uplifting people is the cure for immigration and for some reason, intellectual arrogance is both stupid and heartless. One’s own best interest at the expense of all others is just not smart and can never work.
Just because you have figured out how to do something, doesn’t automatically mean you should do it. It is funny how that has not worked. The word missing from man’s vocabulary and actions is homeostasis. In the vernacular, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” We have to fuck with everything and the thought of leaving something just the way it is, bumps into that arrogance thing I’m talking about.
If I was a science fiction writer, I could come up with a story about how large societies all over the world will break down and break up.
DJT is merely a symptom of man at his worst. He is a very small man, blowing hard as he can to fill his life’s balloon, which has a tiny pin-prick of a hole that his self-worth keeps escaping from. He personifies man’s essential conflict, thought vs. feeling, how vs. why. Although, I am not sure either applies to him. Everything he says and does is a cover for his rampant insecurity. He has no thoughts and his feelings are all counterfeit covers, trying to plug that damn leak.
As much as we want to explore this world and worlds beyond, our internal terrain remains a mystery to so many of us. Back in the days of the toga and being hand fed one grape at a time, we suffered from the same delusions. The reason why nothing has changed is because we are flawed, always have been and always will be.
Let’s get back to my unwritten book. So many ancient societies have had to start over, because they collapsed under their own weight. As the world becomes increasingly unlivable, we will all be forced to migrate to environments that can still sustain life. Dictators in Africa will become irrelevant and populations will shrink. We will go back to living at some time that was “normal” in the BC times. We will have incredible advantages over those much earlier, exceptionally, hairy individuals. Our intellect will help to save us this time around and the connection between us all will finally become palatable.
I am recently feeling much more optimistic, if you could call it that. The reason is because I have a kitten, the cause for the popularity of my last story. They are just so cute and a pessimism antidote. However, the choice of an unattractive photograph is on purpose. At least, I will get back to a handful of emoji’s and even fewer comments, which I can handle. Popularity makes me nervous.
The truth is, I have been sitting around the house, just me and Shelby and Pandora. Why not write, creating a puzzle, where none of the pieces fit together? In my worst selling memoir to my grandson, the title is Halloween in Portland-Diary of a Mind. Ever since that Halloween in 2011, that is all my writing is, just what’s on my mind when I sit down, with nothing better to do.
Tell you what I am going to do. I am up around the word limit for those of you, who even give a shit about reading my stories. I have not reread any paragraphs, before starting the next. I swear I am not going to change anything in an effort to feign intelligence. I will just check for typos and fucked up grammar, but I will not change anything else. It is the same as if you sat down over the course of several days and shared what was on your mind at the time.
Yes, it is stream of consciousness and I am floating down the stream of my own words, trying not to drown. For those of you that have made it to the end, my sincerest apologies.
LISTEN TO IT HERE:
https://www.buzzsprout.com/admin/1292459/episodes/16415958-i-d-rather-write