At War With Reality
I like to create an artificial sense of order. To achieve this I write a To Do List everyday. I neither accomplish nor consult the thing after I make it, but the act of creating a To Do List and peeling it off the pad and sticking it to the wall behind my monitor temporarily places me in control. It makes me feel like I’m doing something; that I am in charge.
I write my daily list on one of the dozen or so multi-colored sticky pads that may or may not have at one time been inside the office supply closet at my workplace. I use one of the fifty or so black “Precise Rolling Ball” pens that may or may not hail from the same source as the sticky pads to write my To Do Lists (used to do them in a fine point Sharpie until the supply dried up). I take heart from the pastel squares of Great Deeds to be Done accumulating on the wall like coral. Many have given up the stick and have fallen into the slim space between my desk and the wall, down amongst the spiders. But looking up at those which hang in there gives me the artificial sense of order that I crave.
This behavior is the weakest of the three methods I use as weapons in my war on reality. As far as I can tell reality is messy, random, smells bad, makes annoying sounds and is out to get me with armies of marching morons, bad weather, politicized agendas and grossly out of shape persons who criticize my smoking through a mouthful of third donut. An especially irrational part of my mind believes that if I can somehow control reality in a small way that I might learn how to rule all of it some day. To date the results have been disappointing.
The use of attitude adjusting substances is my most often deployed, albeit second strongest, weapon against reality. Everyone knows about these items, so there’s no need to list them. They are beloved and highly effective, yet, sadly, all have one weakness in common: They wear off.
Patiently waiting for To Do Lists, mind altering chemical reactions, laughter, winning moments, ephemeral sighs of contentment and dreams and youth and the absolute lightness of being to wear off is reality’s only weapon, but it is enough for it to continue its domination of the one sided war. And it all would be too depressing to consider if not for the best weapon there is against reality: By name, “Insolence”–or “Fuck It.”
No, not love, nor the children who are our future, nor Captain America, nor art, nor the creative process, but Fuck It. Fuck It is expressed through the bloody, loosened tooth smile of a freshly punched face: Is that all you got, punk? Fuck it is what moves us from one day to another; but it cannot do the job alone, hence the sticky notes and the liquor cabinet.
Writing (and creating in general) is a form of insolence. It takes daring to describe the world, for you risk offending it with your words. Five persons appeared on the site this week and launched an assault on reality. We already know too much about one of the writers, but the other four deserve special mention.
Monday featured the welcome return of Marco Etheridge, with Sonny’s Shadow. This wonderful bit of strangeness effectively applied to bad guys by even badder guys is Marco’s thirteenth LS story. Marco is a valued force against reality.
It wouldn’t feel right if Yashar Seyedbagheri didn’t show up during the week. He does so consistently that I can now write his full name from memory without having to double check my spelling. Yash’s Rewind appeared on Tuesday. Once again he displays an enviable talent for phrase making and inner description.
Toronto’s Gabriel Munro made his site debut on Wednesday with the best title I’ve seen since “I Spit on Your Grave.” Shut Your Hellhole is an awesome attitude to show the forces of reality. I look forward to seeing more from this author.
Towen Meeting is my responsibility. It wandered into the yard like a neighbor’s dog on Thursday.
One person we see plenty of and are better off for it is Frederick K. Foote. Frederick is nearing his seventieth appearance on the site, and shows no signs of slowing down. His well observed and thoughtful Somalia highlighted Friday. It bolstered the class of the site that Thursday’s entry had put in jeopardy.
I close with an example of the kind of list I enjoy making most: the utterly pointless. I suppose it is a To Do List only to the eyes in Heaven, but what is a war on reality without a little recreational blasphemy? Behold an alphabetized list of signs of the Apocalypse. Not all the things on the list are necessarily evil by nature, some are already happening while others have varying degrees of likelihood. I’ve omitted my entries for the vowels in a feeble effort to encourage audience participation.
Signs of the Apocalypse: A-Z
B: Butterless Pound Cake
C: Corporate Wrestling
D: Dental implants for “Vampires” (Yes, you can have fangs installed)
F: Fat Albert in the Can
G: Ginormous Taken Seriously as an Adjective
H: Hello Kitty in General
J: Jumping Jehoshaphat’s Return to the Idiom
K: Kid Rock at Fifty
L: “Like” Becoming, Like, The Ninth Part of Speech
N: Non-alcoholic beer
P: Pope Mel Gibson I
Q: Queen Meghan
R: Rampant Employee Office Supply Theft
S: Superhero Dress-up After Age Ten
T: Turkey Bacon
V: Vulcanized Chicken McNugget Golf Balls
W: Webinar For How to Attend a Webinar
X: X-Crement Men
Y: Yahoo a Respected News Source
Z: Ziplock Colostomy Bags