Well Feeling

As much as I would prefer to write

about my desire for long loving

embraces, deep passionate kisses

and lingering flirtatious eye contact,

I find that I am too obsessed with

my own wellness.

Or for lack of a better term,

my perceived wellness in spite

of this pandemic.

Every minor sniffle, soreness,

ache or minor indigestion is met with
concerns for my own well-being.

And concerns for those who may

have been around me.

I don’t feel sick or have any actual

symptoms of illness, but I am too

terrified of it all to actually feel well.

I don’t feel well.

I don’t feel well because I can’t

feel a soft special kiss on my lips

before I go to bed. I don’t feel well

because I sit alone on my sofa so

often my ass groove has its own ass

groove.

I don’t feel well because of all

the stupid around. Stupidity moving

almost as quickly as the virus, if not

moving faster. I feel like Pope Clement VI

who surrounded himself with burning torches

in the hopes of blocking the Black Death in 1347.

While there’s no indication surrounding oneself

with burning torches all day, every day, can stop

the spread of stupidity or the Black Death, Pope Clement VI never

contracted the Black Death and lived.

Plus torches are sort of passé.

So, there’s that.

I miss feeling an honest wellness,

and writing about loving, passion,

and general humanness. I miss just

feeling something other than constant

dread and anxiety.

So I guess I don’t feel well.

Playing Dead

I’m tired.  

Tired of being tired, 

worn out by being worn out. 

Badgered by the badgering of 

information, mis-information, 

falsehoods, truisms, and  

the combinations of the two. 

It’s like that old advice we 

used to get as kids to play 

dead if we were ever attacked 

by a bear. Just play dead and 

the bear will go away. 

Later it was added that you 

should crap your pants too. 

And the bear will leave you 

alone as you play possum in 

your crap filled drawers.  

You may survive the bear 

attack, but you’re covered in 

filth and a sense of failure. 

and probably feel tired.  

All the terrible things in the 

woods that are prowling at the 

edges of the City, all of those of 

sharp teeth in vicious rows, 

praying we fall from exhaustion 

and don’t get back up, 

even with pants filled with shit.  

I’m so tired of it, 

But I’m still trying to stay 

Awake, and continent.  

The Morlocks were Right

“Maybe the Morlocks were onto something,” said Lawrence. He flipped through the TV stations. At each flip of the channel, each News program described the chaos, death and vast troubles of a crumbling world. He thought about H. G. Wells as the TV screen images changed from commentator to violence, to political unrest, to plague stories, back to a commentator.

H.G. Wells envisioned a race of underground dwellers, The Morlocks, who survived by eating the surface-dwelling Eloi in his book, The Time Machine.  The Eloi were human cattle, bred purely to sustain the Morlocks while the Morlocks ran all the underground infrastructure, machinery and crop production.

The Eloi were Human. The Morlocks were once Human. Humanity split in two through tragedy, necessity and chaos. Of course, that tragedy was nuclear war. Still, the chaos was familiar, for Lawrence anyway. He looked at the bag of Cool Ranch potato chips to his left and wondered if it would be funny if it read, “Eloi Chips – Now more Ranch!”

                Lawrence closed the bag of chips and stood up from his sofa. He stretched his arms up toward the ceiling. “I’ve been sitting too long,” he said to the empty room. His back felt cramped and sore from all the sitting he’d been doing. He wasn’t exactly a pro athlete but he wasn’t completely out of shape. Shape being a relative term as far as he believed.

                He walked from his living room to the kitchen and put the potato chips away in the cupboard and looked out his kitchen window. Trees were rustling in the summer breeze, someone in the neighborhood was mowing their lawn and the growling law mower echoed through the houses. It was such a contrast to the fires and plagues reported on the news to the near idyllic peacefulness of Lawrence’s neighborhood. A bird flew past the window, flirting for another bird it seems. Performing acrobatic stunts in great loops before landing back in the tree, next to its object of affection. Seemed so normal to Lawrence.

                “How can the world be crumbling with all this beauty around,” asked Lawrence.

                He went to his refrigerator, felt the coolness on his legs, grabbed a cold beer. He opened it and took a long refreshing sip. He tossed the bottle cap toward his garbage can.  Lawrence looked at the pile of dirty dishes in the kitchen sink and considered washing them. It would only take a few moments to do. Yet, he resisted. It seemed like such a mundane task at the edge of the end of the world.  

                “Would the Morlocks do the dishes, or would that be an Eloi task,” wondered Lawrence. Most of what he remembered about The Time Machine story was from the 1960 film adaptation. He’d seen it when he was a kid and remembered falling in love with Yvette Mimieux. She played the beautiful Eloi named Weena. Lawrence was hooked on blondes ever since. He had read the book at some point after seeing the movie, but the movie imagery stuck with him far more than the book did.

                “I think the Eloi were too dumb to do dishes,” said Lawrence, “they didn’t know anything about the world. The Morlocks provided them with everything. Yeah, I guess dishes were a Morlock task.”

                Lawrence put his beer on the counter next to the sink and turned the faucet on. He got the dish soap and squirted it all over the pile of dishes. Lemon scented soap filled the air and a few small bubbles floated up. Lawrence popped them.  He took another sip of his beer as the sink filled with soapy water.

“If only the world could be cleaned up as easily,” thought Lawrence.  He grabbed the sponge and began.

Little Bit of a Rant

Patriotism is recognizing that we

are all one, sharing the lofty ideals of

a society free from the corrupting

sins of gluttony, greed, self-aggrandizing,

and superiority.

We are to govern ourselves through

the hierarchy of elevated ideals and

educated thoughts. Power should

not be the ambition, only the

outcome of reason and knowledge

through the trials and tribulations

of a truthfully informed populace.

Mediocre or ill-conceived thoughts

lead to ruin and a corruption of

power, corrupted power is a sickness

of which no society can benefit.

The societal contract in which we

are to take care of one another, our local community

and all humankind is often brushed

aside through the ill conception of a

violation of one’s “Rights”.

“Rights,” are merely socially agreed

upon privileges. They are not real.

They are intangible, yet infringement

of these intangible rights can lead

to terrible outcomes, outrages and

the destruction of the elevated truthful ideals

we should strive to protect for the

betterment of all and not for the few.

Short-sightedness of thought has

only put us in a place in which any

perceived slight or inconsequential

injury side tracks the progress of the

whole.

One small hole in a ship may not sink

it, but thousands of little holes most

surely will. That single hole is not

special, but the person that plugs it

may turn out to be, as long as they do

not forsake the thousands of other

special holes.

It is special to do one’s duty for

the betterment of society; not for

material items, greed, self-service,

or a perceived slight. That is not

special. It makes you one of the holes

that needs to be filled.

As people resist the high ideas of

limiting exposure to a deadly virus

by wearing masks in public, they are

actively confusing individual rights

with the rights of a society to exist

peaceably.

Patriots wear masks, because they

care about the people of their country.

People insisting that wearing a mask is an

infringement on their rights are not

patriots. They are King George, who believed

his divine rights outweighed the rights

of his people.

If we govern ourselves with the worst

off of us in mind, we can elevate the

whole. If we understand that Patriotism

is sacrifice, then we increase the chances

of our beliefs carrying well into the future.

To a time when rights are more than

mere constructs of hope, but tangible,

and cohesive. Unifying and indestructible.

  

A Letter for your Birthday

Dear United States of America,

I understand it’s your birthday in a couple days. I know you’ve been going through some tough times recently. Not that it’s anything new for you. I mean, c’mon, you’ve been going through trouble since July 4, 1776; trouble is pretty much your middle name.  

These recent troubles though, the last sixty- seventy years or so, have really been rough on you and I wanted to remind you of who I think you are, or at least, who you ought to be. I know it isn’t easy, what with being a country founded upon the ideals of a Revolution, to listen to any whispers of revolutionary ideas or politics. It would seem hypocritical to do that. Yet I see you struggling with that notion every day. And it’s okay. I know in your heart you want to do the right thing but perhaps you’re not sure what that “right” thing is.

Equality is the pillar of your soul and it is always in your best interest to try and live up to the challenges it presents. I know you want the citizenry to be healthy, wealthy and wise but you have to figure out the way in which we all can get there, regardless of the labels put upon us. It is obviously a rough go, but it can be done so I don’t want you to lose heart.  It is one of the “right” things.  Equality isn’t always equal, but a fair chance at it is always a solid plan for success.

Opportunity is one of your greatest gifts. A person, broken and abused in their original homeland could come to you with an idea, a cause or wish and you’d hold them to your bosom and ask, “What do you need?” A willingness to provide this stranger with an opportunity to fulfill their own hopes and dreams is another right thing. It is in this Land of Opportunity, in a relatively short amount of global time, you changed everything. Your recognition that anyone that comes to the table with a good idea can have the opportunity at success. Yet opportunity can be so much more. Opportunity doesn’t have to spring forth in a miraculous industrial revolution, it can be simpler. Opportunity to change the world can come from providing the chance for all to attend quality schools and attain the knowledge they might need to add to your greatness.  Opportunity needs a little push sometimes and from that small push, greatness can arise.

Justice. That’s a little trickier since Justice is supposed to blind. I mean, I’ve seen some really accomplished blind people in my life but sometimes you do tend to bump into a lot of shit and hurt some people. It’s not always your fault, sometimes the suppression of your values has you double-blinded, but for true justice, you have to have at least one eye open. That eye should be focused on the elevation of your values and not punishment. Behavior rarely changes if the only reward for trying is disownment and punishment. Justice has to have one eye on the present, one eye on the future and a third eye on involvement. Justice is not served when the world is blind and kept at arm’s length. So, think about that a little.

Humility is another thing that I think you might want to work on. I mean, U.S., you’re pretty cool, but no one likes a braggart. I mean, I’m perfectly happy to talk about you and all the wonderful things you have the capacity to do, but I’m not shoving it in anybody’s face. If you want a more democratic world, more places like you, then you have to let them get there on their own, like you did when Britain was all up in your face. Freedom will find a way. And if they ask for your help, help them, but don’t come looking for them to pay the bill after the party. Be humble.

I think within all of this, there’s a chance for you to really be brave and bold. I think you can come out of all of this with a new sense of who you are and who you want to be. You’re still a young country yet and these things do take time, but I know you can do it. I know you can find those brave parts of you that long for those ideals so eloquently written 244 years ago and to live up to them.  

U.S.A., you’ve got a hard road ahead and I do not envy you the work you must do, but I wanted to let you know that I’m with you. We may not always agree, we may not think each other is doing their best, but I will always have faith you’ll get to the place where your values and your lofty ideals are your greatest strength.

So have a Happy Birthday! Don’t go crazy on a jet-ski with fireworks shooting out of your asshole as you blaze across the lake. Maybe stay on the pier this year and responsibly enjoy a few cocktails with the rest of the grown-ups.  Anyway, have fun and keep your chin up.

Love,

This Guy