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Disillusioned by Myself
9-19-04
Today’s article is co-written by one of literature’s great personalities. And also, it is being co-written by a contemporary rap artist and a group of his hoes.
Remember, man created the checkerboard.
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Many questions perplex us Americans. Among them, “Which diet soft drink tastes the least like a diet soft drink?” and “Are our playgrounds safe?” But one question trumps all others. From the Great Plains states to the Golden Gate Bridge and back, everyone is asking the same question: Is there a God? Naturally, they follow up with questions like, “If there is, is he a kind and forgiving God?” But these supplementary questions are really beside the point. Let us assume, for the sake of argument, that God is inherently good. Also, let us assume that George W. Bush is the most devout follower of the Lord since the Apostles. Chomsky would lay down similar ground rules.
Now first, it would be irrational and naďve of us to really say that there was anyway to prove that a God does or doesn’t exist. Some claim to be able to, but they are crazy. Or they would have to be God, themselves. And if multiple people were God, imagine what would happen when they had a difference of opinion. And the other non-Gods would be forced to choose between them of which one to follow. The Gods, seeing this rift between the people, realize that their status as Gods would soon rely on who could get the largest following of non-Gods. With this new factor added to the equation, the Gods would begin to be motivated by something other than their own divine knowledge – they would start to just try and appeal to people. I guess the Gods would get, yes, political.
These are the kinds of things I, alex, let my mind wander into the depths of. Sometimes these thoughts jump out of the bushes and assault me as I walk to the store. At other times, they slowly creep up into their place like a kidnapper luring an unassuming young child into his van with the promise of a big field of lollipops and puppies.
Most of the time, I can keep my mind under control but this is usually not the case either when I have been (a) drinking, or am (b) listening to Sigur Rós. Sometimes also when I am doing the dishes.
Wednesdays are the nights I watch old Hitchcock movies and fix a spinach salad. This particular night, it was Rebecca and Saboteur. After that I would usually find something else to do. I think at one point I received a call from someone trying to sell me something. I allowed him to go on for a very short bit before setting down the phone mid conversation – much the same as how Adam Greenberg would break up his eighth-grade girlfriends – ignoring them until they went away.
After alphanumerically categorizing my Smith and Pooter t-shirts, I reclined and drank some chamomile tea and allowed the evening to wind its way down as I found my place in James Joyce’s Dubliners. Before I could really get into it (he was still in the adolescence stage), the girl from down the hall came over. She had note cards in her hand – like she was studying for an exam or something. I couldn’t imagine what they would be for, though.
She came over because she wanted to talk. Blah blah blah, I thought. What are the goddamn note cards for?
| Many believe that the ultimate goal of life would be to have a culminating orgy with one’s karass. It is presumably the greatest measure of intimacy one can take with those most cosmically joined with them.
Phenomena exist outside our observation and interpretation, but never beyond our rationalization. This is what separates us from the other species and is Aristotelian in its concept. Human excellence lies in its ability to reason and reason alone and we are virtuous only by contemplating.
Naturally, we are going to be sexually attracted to some members of our karass, just as we’re bound to be attracted to someone in our workplace or in our apartment complex. The potential for lust exists between any number of people and those cosmically connected to us are not safe from the idea. Likewise, acting on lustful feelings towards someone at one’s workplace or apartment complex is not necessarily a bad thing.
If the orgy were to take place, at one point in time, would the previous sexual encounters between two or more of its participants make things awkward? Perhaps. What if you had a relationship with one of the others earlier and then had to come to the point in the orgy where everyone was ‘getting down’ but you two were looking at each other like, “ewww.” Wouldn’t be good at all.
By the time I had discovered the writings of Aristotle, I had come across three members of my karass. Two of them were girls and one of them was a boy. |
I didn’t really believe that they said that. Why would she have prepared such thoughts? And what did she want to come over here and talk about? The evening, shortly after, did in fact wind its way down. But I remember, man created the checkerboard. If you’re having girl problems I feel bad for you son, I’ve got 99 problems but a bitch ain’t one. My roommate has been listening to this Jay-Z cd for way too long at way too loud a volume. Maybe it is because Mr. Z continuously instructs, through the song, to “turn your radio up.” [Disillusionment: n. freeing from false belief or illusions.]
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