I want to speak to you, Rudderless Student, lost in-between the vast expanses between your youth and maturity. There are so many things I want to tell you, so many things I want to relate to open your mind and widen your gaze. But let me give you one in succinct fashion: Your indecision and apathy fools no-one and solves nothing. It only steals the synergistic surges of synaptic spirit from yourself and those around you. It makes you neither a friend nor an ally to me.
I want to talk to you, Mister Business Suit, wrapped-up in your vapid charts, useless graphs, and balance sheets turgid with resources. There are so many reasons why I want to lash you to a tree and make you really see the opportunities you’ve left behind in your pursuit of “the grid life”. I want to make you see that you’ve allied yourself with sharks that play games you can’t fathom and laid prostrate on the sacrificial altar. That makes you just another victim; an empty body to me.
I want to scream at you, Father Ineptitude, long-since blinded in the chase for spiritual perfection and judgement. I want to break your mind, skew your vision, and leave you lost in the reality that you yourself have left scarred and barren… just like you’ve inflicted on so many others. The mere implication that you’ve done all of this knowingly makes you just another foe to trample underfoot for me.
But most of all, I want to speak to all of you. All of you here, in the now; listening in the periphery, listening in the wings or waiting on the side-lines. Now is NOT the time for any of that… because now is the time to realize who and what you are. You are unique and ugly, sublime and scarred, dazzling and diabolical.
Many people have given me what I’m about to give you: fuel, and a fire to light it with. The debilitating rage will make you stagger, the roiling hate will blind your senses, and the intense depression that follows it all will only serve to show you where the “bottom” in your psyche REALLY is.
And after the fire has burned-away, reach into the ashes and extract that jewel of rage, that piece of yourself that you’ve given-up to society, small rooms, mediocrity, and mind-numbing “expression”. It’ll carry you, fuel you, burn you alive, and all the while you’ll wonder why someone would give you something so terrible and mighty.
I’ll tell you only one reason why: Because I want you to truly see. I want you to see the forces at-work around you, and snap you out of your comalactic State of the Union. It’s not a Union we have, it’s an entanglement. It’s broken treaties and infected blankets, men sleeping under highway overpasses, bones lodged in the throat, nymphomaniacs holding each other at gunpoint and calling it “art” (or just another day of annihilation), and Amerikaaners cut-off from the fold like a tied-off arm full of narcotic-saturated blood.
If these things don’t make you angry, don’t in some way engender a kind of sorrow or regret at deeds left undone, then pay it no mind. Let it pass like you always do, as if it were nothing more than a wisp of clouds.
But if it does make you angry, and just like me, you have no outlet or ideal to which you can channel these ideas and energies, then at the very least get angry at what you don’t understand. Devour information and destroy expectation, disseminate your experiences and eradicate preconceptions, and express yourself and demolish bias.
But most of all, I want to tell you what I’ve always wanted someone to tell me:
I won’t ask you to hold me up, just to help me stand-up when I fall. I won’t ask you to fight for me, just support me and remain by my side. I won’t ask you to cry for me, just smile through the tears and remember what we had.
What I won’t ask of you, I would hope you wouldn’t ask of anyone else, either. But I hope you’ll ask it of yourself first, if you do.