Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Poor Boy Pondering

Okay, okay, according to my email box, you seem to want more of me. Fine. Here you go. But, please, be forewarned, I’m in one hell of a pissy mood. It’s been another day of scraping lead paint from an apartment building that absolutely reeks of yesterday’s failures and tomorrow’s bad decisions. Yeah, you know the kind of place: one bedroom shitholes where single moms and dads go to put on a happy face for the children while they’ll be sitting at the windows I’m scraping wondering what in the hell went so fucking wrong with their lives. And they’ll turn on the television and see one channel after another wondering 24/7 about “what happened to Anna Nicole Smith.” Reality News Flash: Who the Fuck Cares!

Is it me, or does it seem like the more whacked this nation gets, the more the mainstream media tries to ram complete an utter bullshit down our throats? War in Iraq? Here, look at Anna Nicole. Cancer in the family with no health insurance? Quick, turn on American Idol and forgetaboutit. No money to pay the bills? Click. Turn it off by turning on the illusions of the great-next-election! Yee-fucking-hah!

But wait. I thought the last election was supposed to solve everything. Yeah right. And, please, do us all a favor and remove the hook from your oh-so silly mouth.

The American world outlook at this point seems to be a ridiculous collection of cheerleaders. On one side we have the Dems who shake their asses in our faces with promises to be “different.” On the other side we have the Repubs and what appears to be the same kind of ass shaking and false promises. And the rest of us just keep getting our asses kicked.

Quick, the media says to us: Look over here! Look at Justin Timberlake! Look at Carrie Underwood! Look at anything but the mirror and what it might say: “This is all really, really weird.”

No time for that. Not at all. This is the new age of the American Spectacle, where everything is a distraction and for good reason. Because a distracted nation won’t know or care about how they’re working into the wee-hours of the night to just put fucking noodles on the table for their kids. Eat up. And we won’t notice that those noodle-eating kids are being enticed with bullshit incentives to go and fight wars without meaning.

You asked for it. You got it.

Oh dear readers, I’ve had the kind of day whereby this thought kept coming to mind: Yesterday’s election’s are like your last masturbatory experience. Oh damn, it felt good. But then it was over – and faster than you thought. But you were still just a schmuck self-pleasuring yourself. Sure, you had fantasies but, in the end, it was just you and your reality. None of the characters, dreams, illusions or wishes are ever there when you’re done. Nope. You’re alone. And so it goes.

Maybe that’s why they put you behind that curtain when you vote. Holy shit. They really do expect you to just pleasure yourself and pretend for that ever-so-brief moment that you’re doing the great work of Democracy and your fantasies will become reality. Yeah right.

And then you awake to realize that Bush is still president, the Dems control the congress, Douglas is governor, the Dems control the Statehouse, and you are one of the few who are not being considered as the father of Anna Nicole’s baby. Reality sucks.

And so, there I was, scraping window after window, smelling the memories of yesterday’s tenants and wondering about tomorrow’s. Will the child who will look from these windows have the dreams we need to break the grip of the American Spectacle? Will they see beyond the bullshit and dream the dreams we need to launch us into the place where love, creativity, compassion, community and a brand new global awareness replaces the paranoia?

I can only hope. And keep scraping, earning my own meager salary.

I’m just a dreamer, you know. In a sea of indifference.

Come dream with me. Please?