Cottontop3000
I will be, if you want me as a friend.
Welcome ….friend.
I am
Satyr, once known as
Wanderer, back when I took this place seriously.
I’ve posted a lot here - most of it wasted effort – but now I see that human nature is what it is.
No changing it, no shaming it into consciousness, no thinking there could be more, no more dreaming….. in a life so short, so fragile.
This….is…..it.
In the end one must adapt to the world he finds, instead of fighting for the world he thinks he wants and believes will be better. Utopias are best left for the daydreamer to wallow away his time and exercise his imagination.
And who’s to say if what is wanted is needed or if imagination will ever reach reality.
This…is the human race:
Stupid, ignorant, infectious, relentless, inventive, persistent, delusional, pretentious, cruel, loving, selfish pretending selflessness, interesting and mundane in its repetitiveness, fragile and imaginative.
Could we break the mould?
Hardly, we can only describe what we see in an attempt to understand it.
Should we break the mould?
Now that!!!!..... is up for debate. It is the central thesis of all ideals, the focal point for all ideologies, the driving force behind every belief and faith.
It is the absurdity of it all that is the most fascinating and entertaining, the utter futility of it, from a purely individualistic perspective of course, because no transcending ‘truths’ can be uttered without the smell of ….bullshit in the air.
We can only present our opinions based on our preferences, built on our experiences and psychological leanings and governed by an underlying despair at the thought of our inevitable demise.
And all of it…all of it, is the human mind reaching for a way out; a backdoor to redemption, a reason for suffering.
You see, I’ve discovered a little secret about how to deal with all the lies and pretences, with all the human frailties and games.
It’s called laughter, that twin brother of tragedy, lurking behind every life, behind every gesture and utterance.
Some would call my perspective a capitulation, a sign of fatigue and the end result of aging and an attempt to excuse ones self from ones own inferiority or character.
Such words can only be uttered by the young and delusional. Those still trembling with untapped resources and unblemished illusions, those still dreaming about making a difference and finding a way.
Finally they will know as well or they will be swept away on the wings of fantasy and cultural ‘truth’.
It is truly fatigue, my newfound friend, which speaks through my bones; a fatigue of a solitary man fighting against eternity, against the unknown, against futility and suddenly discovering his limitations. A sensation no man, who has ever thought, can ever avoid or deny; an inevitability sheer Will can only oppose, for a while, and in the nothingness find reasons to persist.
The young and the ignorant still dream about changing the world and standing up to reality and solving the puzzles. They have yet to feel times wrath and the war of attrition; they have yet to reach their wits ends or feel the body’s feebleness.
So, they can afford to play God and speak the grand words and defend the masks that make mankind tolerable. They can wear the masks and wardrobe of their selected icons and dance about blaming everyone else, but themselves, of pretentiousness and posturing and weakness.
Other will describe it as pessimism and a prejudiced disparity based on personal circumstances and failures.
Such words can only be uttered by those that never see or have never tasted defeat or fear or insecurity. Their bravery is nestled in between social privilege and cultural advantage.
Who but a man who has known poverty could be weary of squandering moneys?
Who but one who has felt the whip can cringe at the sound of its strike?
The bravery of the risk taker with mommy and daddy waiting to cushion the fall is one well known to me.
The exuberance of the infant subconsciously knowing he will be lifted up on comforting hand if he or she should ever fall is a characteristic of our time.
You can’t imagine how many times I’ve listened to toddlers speak about love, when they have never learned or haven’t been allowed to hate first.
How many times have I not listened to infants speak of pretentiousness when their entire culture is built on pretentiousness and the act of civility, the staging of civilization, is what is called being sociable or ambitious.
