The Purpose Of Life Is To Describe
Everything As Though It Had Never Been Before
It was kinda obscene. Well, maybe really obscene. I
suppose itís all in the perception, or is it perspective. I seem to get those
confused at times. Back to the stuff. I came across it quite by accident in my
wanderings, or was it fate that drew me to find it. I always get them confused
as well. Anyway, It was soft, warm, squishy, responsive, dynamic, moist. Simply
the most decadent, luxurious, sensual, exciting, stuff imaginable.
Well maybe I over exaggerate a bit sometimes. Adding
embellishments and gratuities that while accurate are not germane. However, the
experience is after all the sum of all. Each element, each component independent
yet connected. All this achieved through some reasonably magical process. Well
maybe not magical, more like smoke and mirrors than pixie dust. Still, charming
in some quaint way. Especially when considering how effective it was.
Everything has a point of some sorts, except for this
squishy stuff. It was far to soft to have any exposed points. Yet, when examined
closely, it was possible to perceive some point, some essence. But, from my
favored perspective it was pointless. Simply pure pleasure, unbridled joy,
stimulation yielding energetic response. Exactly pointless for all intents and
Thatís what made it seem obscene. Pointless pleasure,
joy without cause or reason. Stimulation that excited and releasing even more
euphoria with every touch and pressure. Each odor and visual, compounding the
sense of wanton and delirium. To say it was addicting is too kind. More like
essential, necessary. As though a bribe, a bit of candy that belied some yet to
be discovered horror. Of course it was just a perception or was it perspective.
At first I wasnít sure what to do or how to behave.
Being in such an excited and stimulated state all the time sure made things feel
different. No point in anything anywhere. Was this the stuff of gods? This place
the playground or laboratory for godís endeavor. Or was it a place condemned,
where god might never trod? This stuff some horrid creation or accident
sequestered here in isolation. I get so easily confused. But the stuff, well its
a gas. A real kick. And this place is not so bad once you get used to the
depravity and struggle. Hell, it even has moments of bliss cleverly scattered
40 years ago I discovered the lines, the black cables that
held things together. Even then, they were beginning to hide them. Who were
Ďtheyí or them as most called them? And well perhaps now you can see why I
get confused? I suppose the discovery of the cracks would have changed things if
there was any point in it. But as I later learned to expect. It was the smoke
and mirrors thing. Which lead me to believe that there was a point somewhere,
even if negligible. A complete waste of time and space for just pleasure of the
most heavenly kind. The opportunity to feel the wonder and awe of being in love
with every moment and impulse, every idea and thought, every nuance and
difference. A dance with expectation. Set to the rhythm of pulsing and
breathing. Amid great oceans of undulating waves. Truly surreal and one of a
kind. It was hard not to fall into the day to day routine. Non stop happenings,
spinning a story of who I am. Or was I?
Iíve often wondered why. Never expecting to understand
the answer. But still curious. Life is some really incredible stuff. It is
unimaginable that somehow by selecting the proper chemicals and assembling them
in precise ways this stuff should arise. Becoming more defined, clarified, more
distinct. A bit of raw energy contained in a fleshy vessel. Constrained in space
and time to animate the stuff. The bodies and form. Tendrils, appendages of the
glowing, warm, moist, throbbing, essence. The obscene and decadent stuff called
I kinda like it here. Passion and love, joy and even
sorrow, seemingly infinite ways to express and dance. And best of all, a place
where it is possible to believe that god might exist. Lacking a visible point,
there is absolutely no direct evidence of god. And amazingly, in the land of
human, it is possible to imagine anything. Including a reality without a god.
Well, Itís getting late and I have exhausted the
metaphor reservoir for today. But having a bit of time to end in rhyme. Seemed
apropos in some strange and twisted way. Were it not for all the wonder. Who
would stay just to play in pleasure and summer.
In this palace of wonder, I can not seem to shake the
feeling that this place is really a confinement cell. Or a place of meditation,
where horror also grows. It really is quite awesome to watch both sides of the
mirror. A superimposition of states, equally valid until perceived.
In this forest when a tree falls the gravity waves spread
out until everything and everyone knows/feels/hears. Did life grow to its size
or is it only able to manifest like it is? The waves like wispy smoke, so faint
that no one sees. Giant collections of atoms and molecules, ensconced in cells.
Connected to one another in such clever but simple ways, building everything
needed to sustain these forms filled with water and collections of organs. The
ultimate chemical cocktail.. A symbiotic arrangement. A device to consume and
convert matter into energy and waste. In the most obscene and decadent way.
Standing in front of the mirror to admire each new arrangement. Generally
oblivious to the notion that a mirror has two sides.