Dark Vision

Dark Vision

 Today is Friday. The third day of the new year à la Gregorian Calendar. The weather is gorgeous where you are. Blue sky, fresh, cool, invigorating air and windless in an early Winter afternoon on high plateau somewhere in North America. She's bitching and bitching incessantly. On the beautiful day like this! She doesn't know how to live. In fact, she's dying, slowly, of boredom and discontent. Ignorance is perilous to one's existence. You should know. You were ignorant for a long time. It was a miracle that you survived. On the other hand, what saved you was that you were endowed with a sixth sense. No, not the same kind st. of sense in the movie starring Bruce Willis in 1999. You didn't see dead people. Rather, you saw the death in living people.  And you saw through people and the bullshit they possessed. You're not saying that you're a profound kind of guy or something like that. You just happen to have a big mouth and a lack of inhibitions to go with it.

On New Year's Eve, at a party, some dude pontificated that beauty in a woman wasn't everything. He would rather have an ugly, but virtuous woman for a wife. Other dudes and all the women chimed in and expressed their agreement. You were the only guy at the party who remarked that what the dude said was hogwash. An ugly woman would be unlikely to arouse a man, hence she would contribute to the matrimonial malaise. In sexual matters, virtue is not a necessity. Beauty is only skin deep, but deep enough for you. Yes, you're a shallow kind of guy. And opinionated. Like sex, religion and politics are full of lies and myths, in your biased, subjective, shallow points of view. Take the issue of God. You think God is a concept made up by Man. He is conceived in the image of Man, not the other way around. And those who disagree with you are imbeciles and idiots, at least in metaphysics. You think politics attracts mostly liars and power-hungry scumbags. You chuckle (inwardly, of course. You are vain, but not very stupid and rude. You normally don't laugh at people's opinions, no matter how unfounded and stupid they are) whenever a white dude angrily voices his conviction that Barack Obama is a lying, incompetent communist Muslim who's bent on destroying America. You don't really know for sure if Obama is incompetent and communist. But you think he is surely a socialist and is bent to redress some social inequalities in America. All politicians lie in order to obtain power. But some (like Obama) are motivated to help the poor who don't really have a voice in the political process except their votes. Admittedly these politicians help themselves more in the process, but it is a win-win scenario. The rich need no help in fighting for their interests. You despise those motherfuckers who scream hatred and obscenity at Obama but open their hands to accept government help when they are out of job. Real political convictions must be translated in actions. Talk is cheap. Yes, you voted for Obama, twice and were proud of that. You agree with his social programs. At heart, you are a socialist. 

Okay, you are not a politically correct guy. You don't really give a fuck about what scumbags and assholes think of you. If you had a means, you know what you would do with them. You don't even consider them as humans. Anyway, your words hit them in the polar plexus, and leave them gasping for air, like fish stranded on land. Your words are unrestrained, affecting, raw and honest, designed to shock and awe with their particular pitch of pain, suffering, and private truth. You are a magus with words, at least that's what you call yourself in moments of unbridled vanity.

The other day, somebody asked me what the meaning of life was! I looked at him as if he came from Mars:

"Seriously, dude, what's the fuck? Life is life, you know. We just live, lie through our teeth every fucking day without having any sense of shame, then one say, we get sick and die or we get run over by a bus or hit by lightning and die. That's what life means to all the scumbags and assholes in this world. More developed humans get a rush from life by being war correspondents, risking their limbs and lives to get the truth out. And others toil to help out their loved ones, friends, and even strangers. Life is whatever we do to make us feel good about ourselves. I do wonder may times, however, if scumbags and assholes do feel good about themselves or if they are like me, they do possess a conscience and their conscience torment and torture them, especially late at night. I am not a perfect guy. Far from it. Now and then I do stupid things that I am not proud of. My conscience lets me know that I ought to be ashamed of myself and I am. But I am not a scumbag or an asshole. I am not into denial or evil like them. 

I tend to fall in love quite easily. Love is the meeting place of truth and understanding or is it fantasy and delusion? I think in my case, it is too often the case of fantasy and delusion. 

I am ashamed to admit that I grieved more when my first love walked out on me than when my parents passed away. Somehow the hurt was more intense. And then the world collapsed on me when Harriette collapsed in my arms and died of a heart attack. Since her death, I've been numb. Grief is the manifestation that you really feel sorry for yourself. I am beyond self-pity. I am stunned and stunted by bad luck. 

Somebody asked me the other day if I was uxorious. I told her to check that with my wife. She is in the best position to know. My life is a battleground between fiction and reality. "

(To be continued)