2 posts tagged “death”

(alternate title : "All the reality that is fit to print.")

There is no doubt that we are living in an extraordinarily fucked up world. We have global warming, corrupt governments, a culture growing out of reality television and Splenda seems like a good idea to a lot of people.

Religion is the opiate of the masses.
Television is the opiate of the masses.
Opium is the opiate of the masses.

The three previous statements can all be proven as true through logical argument, but what is it really that is impacting our world into a false sense of happiness?

I have no idea.

Something I have always wanted was a child. As I meet children, as I get opportunities to teach them something about the world I have a strong urge to make one of my own. I am jealous of members of my family that have children, I am envious of their opportunity to shape a mind... to clone a lasting copy of themselves to live on in this world. Then reality settles in.

Is this the world that an innocent child deserves?

People smoke despite a clear label on the package that the product will kill them.
Priests diddle children.
Amid a clear global change, we don''t change our ways.
Any idiot can have a child when it takes months if not years for someone to adopt someone in need.

I was fortunate enough to have amazing parents. Two people that allowed me to develop into the person I am today, they were and are considered by their peers as a strange anomaly, they are also envied by these same people for the friendship they have with their three sons. When they could have molded us into anything they wanted, champion golfers ( in the way of Earl Woods ) or subjected us to fame on television ( we were gorgeous children ), they instead offered us everything that this world had to offer. Exposed to every religion, every bit of knowledge in the world available ... they let us grow into the men we are today.
I am a colossal fuck up... when compared to my brothers. I'm the explorer, never content. While my younger brothers take on more noble roles in the world I sit around and write hoping to eventually reach a reasonable conclusion that will convince you the reader to not have children.

Why?

In a world beyond repair... do you feel capable of teaching someone enough that they can fix your mistakes?

Seven, Eight and Nine years ago when I lived in Baltimore, on a rare day off of work I went out to buy cigarettes and some beer to drink. I only had to walk four blocks to the Korean mini-mart, down and around the corner. I would pass my dog’s veterinarian and many doorways and shops on the way. I would pass people in every class of life. This particular day I passed a homeless man, sleeping in one of these many alcove doorways, at least that is what my brain led me to think. After gathering my twelve pack and camel lights I hit the sidewalk again in the opposite direction from before.

            There was new activity on the street during the minutes I was inside. That same homeless man, whom I had assumed sleeping in that doorway, was now being gathered into a large black sack with a zipper up the side. The paramedics treated it like a chore, generally ignoring the life that had passed while a policeman jotted some notes on a clip board and something made him laugh.

            I have never once told this story of how I walked past a dead man in the afternoon on the street, mainly for the reason this story holds no dignity for any of us, those who died, he who writes it and those who read. Today however and all week as a matter of fact I have been walking through and over a makeshift memorial in the middle of the street. Every day at least once and sometimes twice I grab my backpack, plug some music in my ears and head to the coffee shop “Ike’s”. I walk toward Speedway Blvd. head west for a block, push the magic button that makes cars stop cross and head another half of a block east.

            It would seem my footsteps have been crossing the location of where another person has died. The flowers appeared and photographs and notes, they may have been there for days and lost in my thoughts I wouldn’t know.

            His death is inconsequential to me, and has no bearing on my life, other than I feel a little bit selfish for not caring. A more sensitive person would I suppose, but I definitely don’t. This person whose name I couldn’t have known, has died and has since been autopsied, buried or burned. He might have been an abusive drunk or on his way to sainthood, but his death means nothing now, he is merely worm food.

            I’m not worried about dignity anymore. I feel that has fallen upon me with age. I don’t worry that I don’t have shame in admitting it, and I fart in public places. Death and life come and go, soon the nameless man who died on my path to caffeine will be forgotten by you and me the same. In fact now that I think more about what I am trying to say I don’t feel guilt for selfishness at all. I feel nothing. I am just a guy with a story to tell.

            If I die on the side of the road, please don’t waste the flowers and make the cop filling out the report laugh by telling a joke.