Souls XI
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I'm trying.
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The world is an outlandish place, really. I don't know why some folks get dealt all aces, and others get a handful of twos and jokers and lose the rent and then get beat up for cheating.
Not that I'm supposed to be the one to figure it out.
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I will say this for misfortune and disaster and loss, despair and agony, unfairness and stupidity: exposure to enough of it can lay the groundwork for real wisdom.
If you are always happy and your toast always lands butter side up, you may not suffer as much, but trust me, nobody's gonna want to hang out with you.
You'll be boring.
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So, the world is a magnificent, wild, and beautiful place that is the playground in which you and everyone you have ever known and loved will be slaughtered. One after the other. This isn't being maudlin, this is the brass tacks. Wake up, sister.
It is an abattoir. But it has hot and cold running water. It has Robert Downey, Jr. It has sex! It has great food! There's movies, fer chrissakes.
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You are doomed anyway, so seek adventure.
Have a goddamn good fucking time at it.
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And bust your heart loving. Just tear that bitch to pieces.
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Namaste.
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posted by tearful dishwasher at 5:05 PM
8 Comments:
And figs and dresses to twirl in and Beethoven.
xoxox
i love every single thing about this post. including the fact that i totally agree.
" But it has hot and cold running water. It has Robert Downey, Jr. It has sex! It has great food! There's movies, fer chrissakes. "
YES. Plus, there are children, and alcohol.
Yesterday afternoon I was reading Ghost Light by Joseph O'Connor, and honest to god I read out loud several times this line: The world is not an abattoir.
Here's a bit more context, if you'll indulge me:
"Slow, take your time, it is a beautiful day, a morning that never before dawned on the planet, and the hunger will pass, and there is kindness and fellowship, and frost on the leaves and no cyanide pellets bursting and a script to be performed and old songs to be remembered and a Scotsman to be teased for getting married. The world is not an abattoir. No. It is not. It can turn upside down if you allow it."
And just last week, in reaction to the sign outside a butcher shop --
"Pork, Poultry, Good Beef, Abattoirs" -- my husband and I sat in a pub and discussed this word for not a few minutes.
Kindness and fellowship, here, despite the abattoirs that do indeed exist.
Rebecca-
Figs! Yes. And Beethoven to listen to while eating them, and wasps to fly out them when you bite into the center!
Maggie-
I'm glad you liked it, and agree, and added alcohol!
T.Clear-
Amazing. Thanks for sharing that with me. It's cool to see these same ideas buzzing around all over.
You, me, Conrad.
I think the thing is, you can't ignore death, but you don't have to let her ruin your party.
Party on, Wayne!
A gathering of quizzical mutants who still find purpose in showing up. We've seen the movie before, we know how it ends, we savor the good parts and survive the rest. I always admire your refusal to sip at life.
the ram reminds me of the fawn from Lion Witch and Wardrobe. is that right, a fawn? no.. what is he called...
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