I have seen the drunk, wreckless, lion-like trucks screetch by, with a dust of pebbles: boy trying to prove to girl how exciting, important, his life is. And girl, sitting in front seat, looks out with a quick, rouged, powdered, ear-trinketed mask, with eyes painted wide and a fixed grin, as if to say, “How much fun I'm having in life! How important it all is!”
I hope the truck rolls over and kills them all, I'm so tired of such scenes. Or puts them like crippled vegetables into the hospital: then we'd see how fun they thought life was.
Ah, but silly, it wouldn't do any good to give them cracked skulls: they're already cracked. And even as an armless, legless thing in the hospital, they would never think: “maybe life isn't what I thought it was. Maybe in the end, fun with trucks doesn't matter.”
Anyway, they'd probably start being religious, so incapable are people to learn anything about life, no matter how explicit experience tries to make it.
Perhaps, after all, all the swelled-cranium intellectuals are right, that, without its myths and opiums, life is meaningless and only painful. We are all shipwrecked, and without hope for any full life, so entertain us, drug us, fill us with tales of afterlife, give us toys, toys, and toys enough to divert us from our doubts. For without the glittery frosting, we would find there is no cake.
As every Christian, even every Deist, knows, if there's no God, no Afterlife, no world soul, life is meaningless then.
I only know that between the closing jaws of religion, music, drugs, drinks, trucks, afterlife, make-up face-masks, glittery frosting and all, life is made meaningless. The whole thing is become a joke without a punch-line, though a moral of sorts: the dead find the joke was on them, i.e., that they are even more meaningless in the end, than the joke itself.
The more one thinks about how meaningless modern life is, and how religious everyone is in consequence, the more one's head and blood spin. Anger. Real blooded anger. But you can't do anything with it, you can't throw it about, and so soon anger sinks into despair at the pointlessness, the uselessness of life. And then back into anger again.
I want to just say damn them all, and throw off my clothes and all my learning, and tear off earrings on every girl I see, and smear off make-up, and tell them each to either take off their clothes, or cover up their sassy hair-less legs and arms, and be decent and shame-faced for once.
But such things can't be done. Even take off your clothes, and all faces will crane to look, and mental heads will start shooting away, turning it into a joke, a mass-joke, as if to convince you of the pure ridiculousness and meaninglessness of even the naked body.
A human body can't live in modern society, until he destroys himself, and becomes something else: namely, a destroyer of other human beings. And all that is needed to do any of this, is words.
Words pre-suppose “facts”, and views of life. To even talk to other members of modern society, you have to accept their words. Yet, once even that is done, you've already turned yourself into a liar.
The only hope for mankind lies in his cutting off his tongue. Even then, I'm sure he would find other ways to illegitimize the experience of each other.
The truth of the matter is that real life, simple homo-sapiens life, is not legitimate in the United States of America today, to speak nothing of legal. It only exists, if at all, in the counter-culture in the country.
The whole problem is that there are too many people. Our physical space is penetrated by others, all the time. We have to draw defenses (because after all they are strangers, and our natural tendency is to not let strangers too close), and to do this we resort to words. We abstract from our real experience, thus abandoning our real words, to our “common” or “acknowledged” experience, thus using trite and worn-out, standardized words.
So our very choice of words and phrases, being dead ones, ones that have died and no longer contain any quick of life in them, degrades our own lives. We can't talk truly about ourselves; we only use words that are lies.
In the slang at its earliest inception, you notice a meagre attempt to buck having to constantly lie, but as new slang becomes widespread, it too dies, often into an even harder, deader-than-ever shell.
