Thursday, August 30, 2012
Which could also stand for Wow, That's Fantastic. All depends on the moment.
At this moment I'm staring at a Robert E. Smith primitive, drawn to the colors and the pulse. A strange duck, that artist. He did his thing while others puzzled over its meaning.
But is there meaning to anything today? We move forward, acting like there are good reasons to do so. We act like This all stands for something, that everything happens as it's supposed to, that even the ridiculousness of life has some logic behind it.
You know: fate. Destiny. A reason for living. A reason for being.
All that happy horseshit.
I never believed in such a fanciful thing and then I completely believed in it — and now I've moved on back two squares. Too many things have happened for me to believe there is any good reason for taking up space on this sphere and searching for a deeper meaning.
Trying to do the right thing is a good excuse for people to step on you. Being considerate is an excuse for bullheaded people to roll over you. Being nice is a nice way of informing others that you are happy to be ridiculed.
The worst part is knowing this and allowing it to happen. If I could zip back to the 20th century I would slap myself and yell, "Hey, bonehead, quit being such a fucking idiot." But I can't, so instead I beat up the modern-day bonehead, who should have known better but decided in a blind moment that hey, good things can happen in this world. And they can — but only to other people. Not to boneheaded dreamers.
Nice guys don't always finish last, but they certainly don't win. They generally wind up being the smiling face at the wedding, the unobtrusive guest, the compliant guy who will always be the friend, always be available to listen, always be willing to help the people who stepped on their toes and their heart. They will always turn the other cheek, even when the slaps become punches. They will Take It because they don't believe in fate, they don't believe in happy-ever-after, they don't believe in any deeper meaning of Life. They believe the happy parts of this world are meant for others.
And when the nice guy finally gets a fucking clue and shuffles off this coil, the people who rolled over him in this life will be the ones with the most fulsome words of praise and love. A final insult, but it's all good. He's dead. The hurt's over. Life goes on.