Does the writer write the story
Or does the story write the writer?
Does the sun really shine
Or does the Darkness make it brighter?
Are we at the center
Or are we the satellite?
Are we really Angry
Or do we just like to fight?
Am I wasting your time
Or are you wasting mine?
This was only a short jaunt,
I think we’ll be just fine.
Please read me as well: Another One
“If I were you, I wouldn´t go there” Dean said.
“But if I don´t go there, how will I know?” answered Eddie.
“Somethings are best left unknown” Dean replied.
“No…. I ain´t buying it. Name me one thing that is better not knowing” Eddie said.
Dean mulled it over for a little. “What if your old lady treated you real swell, but she had a kink for sucking strange dick on the down low. Like, she´s the absolute best, A number 1, but she can´t keep the dick out her mouth?”
Eddie pondered the scenario. He was stumped. He gave it one more thought before submitting. “Ya got me there, I guess I wouldn´t want to know”
“Well, are you still thinking about going?” Dean asked.
“Hell yeah! I ain´t got no dick sucking perfect wife, yet and I´ll be damned if I ain´t gonna try finding one there!” Eddie said.
“All right, your funeral” Dean said.
“Maybe, bub…..maybe”
Murray was a rooster. Actually, he still is but I am telling you a story and in the story, he was a rooster. He lived on a small patch of land in front of his owners house. Most of these facts indeed continue to be true but for the sake of the story I shall use the past tense.
Murray was admired by all the hens. He was a handsome rooster. He really cared about how his feathers looked. He was strong and had a forceful, beautiful crow. Beautiful to another bird at least. To a person they mostly sound exactly the same. Murray would always talk about a love interest on another patch of land as to not approximate to any of the hens on his patch.
One day when he was walking the parameter as he is oft to do he came across a hen with her foot stuck in the fence. Her name Jen. Jen was a voluptuous hen. Big, thick thighs, a bosom so full it made her walk with a forward tilt. Her feathers had a shine that she worked on all the time to get just right. Murray´s attention was her upmost desire.
Murray came upon her, “Hey, Jen! How´d ya go get stuck like that?”
“It´s embarrassing, Murray. I would appreciate if you help me out and then never speak of this again” she said.
“Oh, ok, Jen” he answered.
He scratched at the earth under her foot, nibbled at the fence, pulled her leg and worked to get Jen free. After a few moments of toil he had success.
“Are you ok, Jen?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. My leg is a little sore but I´m ok” she said, shyly.
There was an awkward silence broken by Murray “Well, I guess I´ll get back to my rounds, then”
“Not so fast” Jen said coyly “you haven´t let me say thank you” she continued with her head tilted forward and a wing stretched out just far enough that the tip of a feather brushed Murray’s beak.
Under his feathers Murray was blushing. “I can´t. You know I have a girlfriend”
“She doesn´t have to know” she said as she moved towards him. No rooster has ever rejected Jen. The tip of her feather left his beak and slowly made its way down his chest. Strangely, she felt no reaction from Murray. “What´s the matter, Murray? You don´t like me?”
Murray gulped hard. He could never hurt Jen´s feelings. He couldn´t hurt anyone´s feelings. He saw that Jen would not take no for an answer. With his heart almost working its way up his thin neck and out his beak he informed Jen “Don´t tell anyone…..” he paused. Jen got her hopes up, “This is really going to happen” she thought “A dream come true”
Murray continued “Jen, I´m sorry, but I´m gay”
“Energy drinks! We need to get some energy drinks!” Brad said excitedly.
Jeff paused for a moment soaking in the irony of such and energetic person making such a claim. “You´re too damn hyper as it is, man. Let´s just get a few beers and get out of here”
I want vodka and energy drink. We can get the generic brand. It´s cheap. That with the plastic squeeze bottle of Popov will be cheaper than a twelve pack and get us much more wasted”
Jeff had to admit, he had a point and neither of them had a lot of money on them nor had many prospects for changing that situation.
“Instead of getting drunk tonight, maybe we should do us somethin that´ll make us a little money” Jeff said.
The two looked at each other and started to crack up in the middle of the supermarket.
“Let´s get the damn booze and get the hell out of here” Brad said. “I don´t want to get to the party too late, all the slutty chicks will be with someone already”
Jeff silently agreed and steered them towards the liquor section.
A few moments later the transaction was made and they were on the road mixing a strong communal drink in a discarded McDonald´s cup that Jeff found under his seat.
After taking a deep sip, making a twisted face of horror from the burning sensation in this throat and extending the cup to his good friend since childhood, he pondered aloud “You ever wonder what this is all about? Like why we are here? I´m sure it ain´t to drink cheap vodka and try to make out with girls who are probably worse people than we are”
“Don´t think about it one bit” Brad said honestly.
“Never?” Jeff asked.
“Never. Don´t cross my mind. I think we´s just here to be here. Asking why? Ain´t no point in that” Brad added.
“Ain´t no point in drinking cheap vodka and hooking up with skanky girls neither, now is there?” Jeff said. He took another long deep sip. This time there was no burning. The first sip had already anesthetized him.
“I guess not” Brad said, getting slightly irritated.
“Fuck it. Let´s put on some music” Jeff offered, noticing the irritation in Brad´s voice.
“That´s more like it! Crank it up!” Brad said, all anger blowing out the window along with the first few puffs of smoke from his freshly lit cigarette.
The party was exceptionally good. Although there weren´t the most attractive women in the world, there were plenty of them and they most certainly weren´t the kind that use good judgment when making decisions.
Brad started sweet talking a woman who could be described as a human sausage for she tried to squeeze much more body than she should have into a younger, thinner woman´s clothes. They started kissing on the couch and Brad suggested they find a place with more privacy. She obliged and they headed upstairs.
They found themselves on the smallest bed in the house. It was the host´s four year old daughter´s room. The question Jeff proposed kept echoing in Brad´s head. What was the point of all this?
As things progressed, she asked if Brad had a condom. Of course he didn´t and she said she didn´t mind. She couldn´t get pregnant anyway. She mentioned something about a botched surgery involving a severe case of HPV.
As the woman started to undo Brad´s pants it was painfully obvious that Brad´s manhood was not as into this fine woman as much as Brad´s cheap vodka soaked brain was.
“What´s the matter hun? Drink too much?” she asked.
Brad was aloof. What was the goddamn point of all this? Jeff ruined his night. He apologized, put the rest of his clothes back on and just left the party. He didn´t even tell Jeff he was leaving.
Three months later Brad was at an AA meeting receiving a chip symbolizing 90 days of not drinking. He just shared how frustrated he was by his day at his work training program but that he was grateful that he was able to resist the urge to go to the liquor store and continue on his new path. He still hadn´t talked to Jeff since that night he proposed that heavy question. Brad was no closer to having an answer either but he felt that maybe, just maybe if he lowered his head and pushed through life, a hint would come his way.
Some people watch news about starving people in Africa and may think to themselves, “Poor them. They are days away from starvation. Look at how they depend on others just to feed themselves.”
That last thought is rather tricky. In many places in Africa, they are dependent on others bringing them food. Many NGOs, including large ones like UNICEF are the only entities keeping some medium to large populations alive. People, sometimes living on the opposite end of the globe, give money, either directly through charitable giving or indirectly by paying taxes and then having their tax dollars turned into aid sustain these populations to the extent that if the money dried up and the food stopped coming in, these populations would be devastated.
These people are usually given pre-processed food stuffs. Not seeds, not knowhow, but sacks of flour, rice, beans, etc. This drives home the point that if the money goes away, the food goes away and people will starve.
My contention in this piece is, there is no difference between the people surviving on aid and the people supplying the aid in one crucial aspect, self sustainability. Neither population is truly sustainable if left to their own devices. Just as the needy population would be devastated if the aid dried up, the rich populations would be just as devastated if their chain of food were interrupted. Neither groups have the knowhow to sustain themselves. I must admit, I am not sure if I could keep my family alive if I could not go to the local supermarket or restaurant for nourishment.
They are both forms of dependence. The needy are given food thus taking away any incentive to learn how to cultivate food for themselves while the rich cannot be bothered with such activities due to their busy schedules. Both are slaves to convenience albeit in different ways. One group’s chains and shackles are free while the other group pays for theirs.
One just needs to look at the hurricane that hit New York City in 2013. The food supply chain was interrupted due to flooding and New York was almost out of food in three days. People were going into to neighboring states New Jersey and Connecticut looking for food. Imagine if these states did not exist and there was nothing but wilderness until the Pacific Ocean. There would have been massive deaths due to starvation.
It is easy to take for granted how easy our lives are. But it is also easy to take for granted how delicate the balance truly is. We are one natural disaster, one real oil crisis, one cosmic event such as a communications destroying solar flare, etc. away from living as if we were in the Stone Ages. Are you prepared in such an event? I know I am not but it may be prudent to be at least slightly prepared. A doomsday basement filled with rations, arms and ammunition and stashed of gold may not be in order but certainly a little basic knowledge of farming, plants and basic survival might go a long way.
Despite what is said, a change of scenery is not such a big deal for it is seen by the same eyes.
The images are processed and analyzed by the same brain that has been molded by the same experiences and same chemical reactions.
Do we ever see anything new?
Or, do we see the same things, over and over again coming to the same conclusions as if our mind is on cosmic auto pilot?
If one goes to Antarctica, do they not feel the same cold once felt in another instance, though perhaps a bit harsher?
If one travels to say, South America, do they not see the same human conditions seen once before in their own land with a few exaggerations here and there but unable to see the truth for they are looking through the prism of their own prior experiences?
It is unwise to simply take one’s word for. Not even your own.
How much difference does it make?
You can work out your body for years building muscles that protrude from other muscles only to have them atrophy to nothing in a few quick months of a little sloth.
You can spend years creating a fortune only to see it lost in moments due to a lapse in judgment or worse, something outside your realm of control.
You can spend years of your life and soul creating a family only to have them wiped out in the blink of an eye at the hand of a wild eyed killer or an inebriated driver.
You build relationships, they go away. You have ideas, you forget them. You cook food, it gets eaten.
Even the tallest grandest mountains erode at the hand of wind, water and time.
Nothing is permanent not even the stain on your favorite shirt.
You’re born, you die.
I ask again, how much difference does it make?
What?
What is worth holding onto? What makes someone better than someone else? What makes someone prolific? What was the question? What drives life forward? What is the ultimate end? What keeps everybody from quitting considering the futility of it all? What keeps God so silent? What keeps up seeking His word? What is a justifiable want? What is beauty? What is power? What coerces the sun up every day and what scares it away every night? What is this pain? What will make it go away? What is your plan? What if you couldn´t make any more questions?
By Ryan 