Tuesday, March 5, 2019

Observing the Conversation

I mean, I'm observing the conversation. I'm not forgetting the homeless man outside of Boqueria, whose one leg was COMPLETELY FUCKED UP with bright red bloody bowl sized holes just out in the open, seriously -  wounds as large as if some rabid dog had bitten it- no, torn flesh off of it- except the blood pits were perfectly round shapes. I wonder how he got those wounds. I only had a second but let me tell you - it was gnarly. What the FUCK happened to this man?

People pack their history. Their trauma. And there is such a flimsy, frail membrane between the surface and the dark torrents beneath, just ready to burst - or die - any second. It is the truth. I have to look it up - give me a second - internet tells me there has never been a time where mankind did not experience war, it's just a matter of where & whom. But something deep and wide- like the world wars, is about to take place again, and it's going to have worse ramifications. Are humans meant to survive this time?

I'm close. I always feel nervous but for other reasons, and it's a completely different feeling. This is the calm before the storm. I have this metric- you're fine if you can see a century into the future, you can probably feel safe. There were some people in history who did that. No one can say that now. It's a different level of meaninglessness. It's an issue of wrongness. I hate being wrong. The notion that I could be wrong about a lot of things is insufferable to me right now.

I can't be wrong . 

No comments:

Post a Comment