Fresh Kills _ The Unfairness of It All - Day 9

The Unfairness of It All - Day 9

It is all so unfair.

Random acts of kindness.

Random acts of violence.

They say it is all stuck together by a big powerful, vengeful, loving God.

It is all chaos.

If you are smart you duck a lot to avoid the shit hitting the fan all day long.  And don’t give me that shitty original 7/11 marketing jingle expanded to  24/7.

There are 168 hours in a week all you morons out there that can’t count past 20.  That’s five fingers on each hand and the theoretical five toes on each foot for all you inbred idiots at Yale and Harvard with your secret inbred six digits here and there that have not yet been surgically altered.

It is all chaos in the universe.  It only falls together here and there with a little gravity thrown in.  And they say it is creatively designed.  It makes sense from a moron’s point of view.

Milk comes from a cow.  Why, somebody had to think that up all ahead of time.  Some genius god to make a mammal feed its young.

Oh, and the Jesus and dinosaur crowd. The earth is only six thousand years old because some book says so.  People put too much faith in what is written down sometimes.  Too much in fact.

If god is so smart why did he create dinosaurs, let them roam the earth for thousands or millions of years and then give up on another failed experiment of a hyperactive, attention deficit, never finishes what he starts half-assed creator?

And then you got Jesus perfect but human.  A virgin. Never pissed or shat or fornicated let alone masturbated and he is human? I don’t think so.

What is your definition of perfect?  Father is attention deficit.  So is the son.

Whatever.

Don’t go there.  Maybe all the bullshit is exactly as they say the bullshit is.

Yeah right.

Are shares of the Brooklyn Bridge negotiable or traded here on the Limbo Commodity Exchange?

Take a breath.  Slow.  Another.

Silence.

What a rip off life is.  What is the secret or meaning of life?

No answer.  Always no answer.

Might as well bounce everything off the rubber walls of this hell!

A thought.

I had these discussions.  Mild tirades really.  These discussions with myself a lot of times in my life.  The reasonable part of me always came back to the supposedly balanced idea that I was better off than ninety-five percent of humanity in terms of opportunities, freedoms, and material comforts.

That is all well and good.  It all gets listed under the heading of duck and cover from the chaos and the constant shit fight or shit hitting the fan and hitting the now feces adobe mix covered walls.

Shit happens!

It happened to me!

Life is not fair.  It sucks.  I am starting to sound like some clerks in shops at the Staten Island Mall.  “Life sucks. What do you want? What are you doing here?

“Well, I came to look at something and possibly buy it.”

Then the look.  That dead in face stare of the young these days.  It is unfair of me to pick on all these immigrants from Brooklyn who parked themselves at this dead end of the world.  Crossed the Verrazano Bridge only to find that other undesirable minorities too could cross the bridge and they are stuck there at the most god awful end of New York City in the forgotten borough.

Somebody forgot to tell that there are two other bridges to cross to escape from New York City and arrive in Jersey.  Go on try.  It is just another state.  Nobody will bite you.  If you leave, I might get some decent human service at the Mall.

Oh well that felt good. 

Malls.  Never understood them.  I think they represent some kind of utopian versions of post exchanges from the military in this military totalitarian loving country.  With parking.

Why did whoever attack my place of work?

God knows the World Trade Center and its box and glass architecture were the ugliest things on earth but it was a government boondoggle project. Everybody got a piece of that pork pie.  The unions, the bankers, the real estate developers, the city, etc. etc. etc.

Unsafe place to work.  Unsafe?  No radar warning systems.  No decent escapes systems.  Hell with two clips on your shoes and two clips on your hands, you could have slid down the outside of the building on the window washing machine tracks. Why didn’t somebody think of that? Did they ever really build that pork pie project up to its own specs?  Did more of the building go down every day in the backs of all the vans, that the construction workers drove around in, than actually went into the construction? Who is to say?

I am still waiting for a funeral.  I do not know if they let you out of limbo to witness such a thing.  I do not know if maybe when you get to the other side, to the hereafter, maybe you can go back in time to witness your funeral, send off.  Participate in the eulogy or whatever.  Finally see and more importantly feel the pain, the break from life and the great sendoff of the ship of your body and soul into eternity?

All seems so dark.

A noise.  An almost squeaking, tearing, shredding, scratching sound.  It is as if in my imagination metal rings and hooks and ropes are moving up some giant mast on a ship or more like the pole of a giant tent.

Light busts into my dark space.  It is only a little light.  It is muted, diffused through thick canvas like material.  It must be some bright light to pierce this thick material. It would be too bright to look directly at if I still had eyes to see with.  I would be blinded by such light that seems at least from this distance, this space of protection from its rays on this side of a canvas, to be brighter than a dozen suns.

The noise stops.  In an envisioned real space in real multi-dimensions, a crawl space is filled with a light showing through the thick canvas like material of a tent?

What did God say?  What did my imaginary friend say?

I was raising a small space in the dark corner, one dark corner, of the ignorance I bred and wallowed in, in my life. 

The universe gave me everything at birth and step by step, everybody including myself took it away.  What was it?  It.

I somehow have one of those brainstorms in life. That like in some old Aldo Rey, Judy Holiday movie. You don’t have to be smart all of your life to be successful, you just have to be smart for a short time, take notes and capitalize on that moment.

I sense that sheer desperation of thought and sheer strength of will power have helped me pushed the canvas up the tent pole but only so far.

I am scared.  I do not want to jump into any light especially the one so bright as on the other side of this tent material. I also am suddenly reluctant to raise the tent any further.  What might I find?  Dinosaur bones.  Old dreams. Unfulfilled dreams.  More anger.  More grief.  More questions. 

I back off like those migrating souls from Brooklyn who were hesitant to make the big jump to Jersey and beyond.  Maybe I will just stay at the Mall here in Limbo and tell anybody that wants some service to just fuck off.

Am exhausted.  Back off.  Into a darker space.  Must orient myself to this new light thing.  Is this a material manifestation in a non-material world?

Time to think.  Time to hesitate.  Time to curl up into some fetal position and hide from current reality.  It really is overwhelming.

It really is scary.

It gives me a headache I think.