Kings and Queens of the Wind
We are kings and queens
of the wind. Children of mystery and madness.
Sentient, indomitable,
extraordinary… extraordinarily fucked up that is.
The absence of evidence
is not the evidence of absence. Absent I have been, safely ensconced in my own
twisted mind, plagued by MSG induced nightmares. Today marks the start of a new
chapter. I quit my job, done my time, paid my dues, and gone to some effort to
sever the umbilical cord wrapped tightly around my neck.
It’s a new day, a new dawn,
so fuckit. The world is apparently
ending in the next month and a bit…apparently. We had a meeting and Apparently
can’t deny that the world is in fact, going to hell in a handbag. This leaves
me feeling somewhat unaffected. Essentially I believe that every waking moment
we are alive on this plain of existence, we are in a constant state decay,
veering ever closer through various stages of death.
I know. I noticed the
Buddhist undertones there too…must be all these nightmares. Sometimes
nihilistic pragmatism can be beneficial, especially if you’re in an anarchic
kinda mood. Because we’re there. In hell. Apparently. We had another meeting
and me and Apparently disagree on the whole “waking, eternal damnation” part. This
clearly illustrates the reason why I have a problem with organized theocracies.
It’s in my nature to remain wholly suspicious of anything I don’t
intellectually or intuitively agree with 100%. Ironically I do believe in
reincarnation. Yip, that’s right. It takes a lot of work to be this morally
obscure but someone has to do it. Newly unemployed, I might as well give it a
go.
After diving into the rat
race at 19, nothing gives you more perspective than spending your first day at
home (after years)…alone….Unemployment sure is creepy, but reflective. Things I’ve learnt
during my monumental two year lapse of judgement. Don’t work with family…ever.
Don’t. Just don’t do it. Okay let me say this in a broader scope…don’t work
with my family. There’s logic involved.
How much time do you
think the average person spends with their family in a period of a lifetime? What is an acceptable amount…and what are the effects of such exposure? All
valid questions, all of which needs to be taken into consideration when
attempting to understand my unique version of logic. Let’s do the math. From
the moment of conception you do your best imitation of a directionless chesterburster
from Alien for nine months until gestation lapses. The average mom takes 4-6
months maternity leave. Our average tally at this point is 12 months spent with
a parental figure. That’s 52 weeks even. Twenty four hours a day of intense
contact. That’s 8,736 hours. It would
also be a safe assumption that after that, the average person does not spend an
extended amount of time with a parental figure. Generally, life does not necessitate
this.
It should be noted that
at this particular stage of life, you are completely vulnerable and in early
stages of cognitive development. Basically, blowing spit bubbles is by far the
highlight of your achievements to date. And you don’t have an opinion. You don’t
even know what an opinion is. You do know that you like boobies, which happens to
turn into a life-long fascination.
Governments get
overthrown, mullets and handlebar moustaches have made their second comeback
and Riaan Cruywagen retires. It’s
twentyfive-some years later and you have to spend eight hours a day, five days
a week with genetic relations…for two years! Fuck me, Charlie. Do you know how
much hours that is? 7,200 hours. 7,200 hours you can never undo. 7,200 hours
you can never get back. And coincidentally it’s roughly (sort of) the same
amount of time as our previous scenario. I have conducted this survey on one
individual, which means 100% of the test subjects prove my theory. These are
the facts…the results are irrefutable. This is science and Apparently said it
was true.
Since I now boast the
cognitive function and rational skill set of a functional human, spending so
much time with them was…challenging at best. It’s unnatural. Show me, where
this occurs in the wild. Show me. It’s science. Therefore sound logic is SOUND.
Shame, it’s not that I hate them, it’s that I hate being a part of that
family…or A family, just so messy. These crazies are so much work. My mother’s
standard modus operandi is panic and my dad is the splitting image of Saddamn
Hussain and has the same grand delusions as our Brother Leader, King of Kings,
Colonel, He Man and the Maters of the Universe, the most exalted Muammar
Gaddafi. So absorbed in his own god complex. I do admire that they each operate
in their own perfectly constructed universes, each at the helm as their own
godhead. Revelry and nagging endearment, that’s what they evoke in me. At least
they’re interesting, I’ll give them that.
With these
sound reasoning skills I’m not too worried about not having a plan. It’s okay
to sometimes not have a 12 step strategy and just move in whichever direction
the wind blows, guided by Her Lady Destiny. Besides I’ve got this chaotic mess
on my shoulders, sound logic and two legs that’ve gotten me this far… I’m sure
I’ll manage.
Interesting
times are ahead, I’ll tell you that much. Who knows what will happen, for there
are known knowns, known unknowns and unknown unknowns…things we don’t even know
we don’t know about. Meh.
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