I need answers to the why. Confusion can and does confound me, but I like to know things: why is there fire in the mountains, lightening in the air? When God gave out rhythm why did he also give out Popsicle toes—mostly grape and orange. And why is politics political? Did I choose the existence in which I ponder this? Did my mother really have sex? Gross…!
Meditation without mediation sometimes brings enlightenment, so does ESPN Deportes, broadcast in algebra: they are both lacking in the hurry up department, so, I speed dialed my friend Nietzsche, hoping he didn’t have me on speed denial. He didn’t; he answered after the third ring. “Yes?”
“Freddy, I’m sensing disorientation and confusion in the face of an apparently meaningless and absurd world.”
“Chuck?”
“Does existence precede essence? Does the actual life of the individual constitutes what could be called his or her essence instead of there being a predetermined essence that defines what it is to be a human?”
“Shit… I should’ve let this go to voicemail, but since you ask, I don't believe in magic. I don't believe in I-ching. I don't believe in Bible. I don't believe in Tarot. I don't believe in Gita. I don't believe in yoga. I don't believe in kings. I don't believe in Elvis. I don't believe in Zimmerman. I don't believe in Beatles. I just believe in me. And that's reality.”
“Dude that’s harsh….” Before I could finish my thought, the blue light to my eBay iPhone alerted me to an incoming call. “Hold on… yes?”
“Elton?” a suffering fellow asked.
“Chuck.”
“Give me a Leonard Cohen afterworld, so I can sigh eternally.”
“Huh?”
“You're so self-involved. You're in some kind of fog. You're hung up on your hog. You didn't even make me, come on!” a righteous sounding lady chimed in.
“Me?”
“Him.”
“Who?”
“Precisely,” three voices answered back.
I hung up my eBay iPhone realizing it was really a Motorola Razr2 sans battery. Maybe I should’ve meditated or astral projected my sorry ass to the universal library of answers on Neptune; instead, I ordered a pizza with extra mushrooms, knowing I always nap after digesting pizza with extra mushrooms. And in my yesterday’s dream dreamt this coming Tuesday, I remembered the wisdom of Karl Jung’s sister Aphrodite's favorite singer John Fogerty, “Did you hear ‘em talking ‘bout it on the radio? Did you try to read the writing on the wall? Did that voice inside you say I've heard it all before? It's like Déjà vu all over again.”
Let's get back to reality....
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MarkinKentuckiana
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Comments
R.
Rated
Death to you, blasphemer... or at least lay off the shrooms. Try a meat lovers pizza.
I never think on any days ending in "Y."
Willie
I clean my feet often
Jeff
I'd PM it but I hear it's now unlisted.
Tia
this post dedicated to all....
Sirenita Lake
You should read my stuff with a good buzz on....
Cap'n
That's Nietzsche talking down the Beatles
Robin
xox back at ya
I’m savoring this musing on the why’s of whyness, not least because grape is my favorite flavor, orange my favorite color :-)
—Melissa
P.S. Speaking of why’s, are you familiar with why the lucky stiff? His Poignant Guide to Ruby is a surprisingly lovely pieces of contemporary literature (complete with cartoons!). I just tried to find a link to the book, which used to be available online, only to learn that why has recently disappeared himself from the Internet. This is deeply unnerving and leaves me and many others wondering . . . why.
This called to mind these lyrics from an old Peggy Lee song:
I know what you must be saying to yourselves,
if that's the way she feels about it why doesn't she just end it all?
Oh, no, not me. I'm in no hurry for that final disappointment,
for I know just as well as I'm standing here talking to you,
when that final moment comes and I'm breathing my lst breath, I'll be saying to myself
Is that all there is? Is that all there is?
If that's all there is my friends, then let's keep dancing
Let's break out the booze and have a ball
If that's all there is
-rated-
no more chunky bacon???
Ellen
yes... let's break out the booze. September is going to be fun!
thank you... I try not preach, but to sing.
Umbrellakinesis
my Nietzschie has always been diluted with a bit of Sagan.
The essence of which you ponder is the essence of the essence. Or something like that.
Next time, try Wittgenstein. Ludwig is a much more entertaining conversationalist.
wonderfully well written, Chuck. Happy pizza!
Yes... I'll put Ludwig on speed dial. Thank you for reading.
Yes... highly censored at that.
And dream sweet dreams of extra mushrooms!
My dreams are heavily invested in 'shrooms.
Steve
Yep. It's after Labor Day, now I get Autumn-whacked!
I'm glad you enjoyed. That graphic is priceless.
There's gold in them hills and it's waitin' for you there!!!
It does keep your feet clean. : )
I forgot about Elton and Crimson. But I won't again : )
I just love that bull's turd! : )
I adore this piece. I learned I shouldn't be posting when I should be sleeping. Thanks for the blue shirt....xox
So strange. I actually thought this same thing today, almost verbatim. I had a friend of mine start preaching God to me (he's suddenly found his way, apparently) and it was such a turn-off. It made me not want to pray - to not connect spiritually to any version of God. Yet I still wanted something. So I thought, "I'll just believe in ME and this moment. That's my reality." And then I read this.
yes, she did.
hehe.
happy post labor day!
coincidence?
I think not!!
Please pass the lime when you're done. Boy, you're gonna carry that weight a long time.