SOCIALISM AND DEPRESSION
Let's face it. The art of moping. The act of locking yourself in your apartment, listening to nothing but Nick Drake, Jeff Buckley and Nirvana. (Sarah's Fumbling Towards Ecstasy for all the metrasexuals) The awe of pain washing over you like scalding, stagnant bathwater. It's really no respecter of persons, is it?
Can you explain to me why the rich commit suicide? Or why the homeless are the most happy? Why, after your only child dies, you take a 6 month vacation to Fuji, and it ends up being the best time of your life? Or why, after finding the cure for cancer and being championed by the medical community, forget the world, you slash your wrists in defeat? I just can't figure it out. Other than God must have made us all very different. Big enlightening moment, right? But think about it for a second. Is it really fair? I mean, just because I've been blessed with tolerance at large and get my non-anxious view of life from a pure source, rather than from a little purple pill, does that make things easier for me? Yes, it does. But I don't necessarily like it.
Despite the circumstances, (and mind you, I have had no great tragedies in my life yet), I remain relatively calm throughout. Would I be pretty upset if I lost Nicole? Yes. Would I want to kill somebody if they ever hurt my daughter? Of course. But I am even keel, and don't continually stuggle under the cloud of darkness most artists languish in. Does my work suffer because of it? Maybe, but I'll take my chances. A good dash of Bukowski and Hubert Selby Jr should fix me right up. This while I sunbathe with a glass of orange juice while sketching my plans for the future.
Why were so many other people born with the incapacity to deal with their shit. It's their shit, after all. In a world where anything could really happen to anybody at any time, we should have been given what it takes to deal with the inevitable in a healthy, and even productive, manner. Right? It's only fair.
Some would say that we don't live in a fair world. Automatic says it all the time when he contemplates a future without the majesty of maternal mentoring. I tend to agree with him. But I will say this. If I could figure out how to take the pain and suffering of our nation, (what I would call a necessary evil if I believe in the sovereignty of God), and spread it around so that we all feel it. Equally. None greater than the next. Than I would do what it took. I would hope. I would make that sacrifice I know I would have to make, and pray I had enough love for humankind in my heart to follow through until the end.
If I lost a daughter, or if you lost a mother, or if a Tsunami hit the suburbs of Illinois, at least I would know that things would be fair for the very first time.
Can you explain to me why the rich commit suicide? Or why the homeless are the most happy? Why, after your only child dies, you take a 6 month vacation to Fuji, and it ends up being the best time of your life? Or why, after finding the cure for cancer and being championed by the medical community, forget the world, you slash your wrists in defeat? I just can't figure it out. Other than God must have made us all very different. Big enlightening moment, right? But think about it for a second. Is it really fair? I mean, just because I've been blessed with tolerance at large and get my non-anxious view of life from a pure source, rather than from a little purple pill, does that make things easier for me? Yes, it does. But I don't necessarily like it.
Despite the circumstances, (and mind you, I have had no great tragedies in my life yet), I remain relatively calm throughout. Would I be pretty upset if I lost Nicole? Yes. Would I want to kill somebody if they ever hurt my daughter? Of course. But I am even keel, and don't continually stuggle under the cloud of darkness most artists languish in. Does my work suffer because of it? Maybe, but I'll take my chances. A good dash of Bukowski and Hubert Selby Jr should fix me right up. This while I sunbathe with a glass of orange juice while sketching my plans for the future.
Why were so many other people born with the incapacity to deal with their shit. It's their shit, after all. In a world where anything could really happen to anybody at any time, we should have been given what it takes to deal with the inevitable in a healthy, and even productive, manner. Right? It's only fair.
Some would say that we don't live in a fair world. Automatic says it all the time when he contemplates a future without the majesty of maternal mentoring. I tend to agree with him. But I will say this. If I could figure out how to take the pain and suffering of our nation, (what I would call a necessary evil if I believe in the sovereignty of God), and spread it around so that we all feel it. Equally. None greater than the next. Than I would do what it took. I would hope. I would make that sacrifice I know I would have to make, and pray I had enough love for humankind in my heart to follow through until the end.
If I lost a daughter, or if you lost a mother, or if a Tsunami hit the suburbs of Illinois, at least I would know that things would be fair for the very first time.
posted by The Passenger at 1:37 PM
1 Comments:
Pain and sadness is probably equally distributed, but who is to measure? That would be an impossible task. One for God to deal with
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