Dichotomy, you bastich!

I don't know about you, but I sometimes find the duality that seems to rule the universe can be a right pain in the butt! For every joy, there's a pain. For every moment of enlightenment that helps propel us further forward in our spiritual journey, there's some petty inpulse holding us back.

Case in point, my life is awesome right now and I have nothing to complain about, but something pushes me to fixate on that which has caused me grief recently. And it BUGS me! Now, anyone writes in and comments "just get over it" will get an online ass-whuppin'. But that's not what's causing it, I think it's instinctive dichotomy that keeps us all from being too happy or too sad. Yin and yang and all that noise. So, what does this have to do with today's writing? Well, it reminds me of an old school project I had going in the late 90s. I thought I could dust it off here.

So, as part of my enjoyment of clip-writing, I present the following piece from yours truly, circa 1997... This side presents the dark face of reality, but the hope was to counter it once finished and write a mirror set of clips, which I will do later on.

Also, I just have to say as I watch the National, DAMN Wendy Mesley is HOT! Anyhoo, I digress...


May 4 2010 (by way of Winter 1996)

A Universe of Pain

The Hordes had come, suffering and pain trumpeting their arrival. The entire population of Earth was consumed in seconds, a light snack for the unending, undying wave of cosmic defilers. The globe was set aflame and the demons danced and burned in the blaze.

Next the Breaker came. He blotted out the sun and the Hordes looked up from their fledgling star to see what had obscured its elder. The Breaker had shattered the solar system, fragments of Saturn, Jupiter and Mars still entangled in his ethereal hair. He breathed in the sun, then smashed it.

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I’m on the table, being cut again; a finger here, an ear there. Bits of me are gathered meticulously and secured in plastic bags that are labeled with the names of my parts. I am being pruned.

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Love hurts like death.

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God had a bad day once, so he made it rain for over a month, drowning the world except his pet human Noah. A few centuries later, he took sides between Egypt and Israel since the latter had a pretty accurate understanding of who He was. So, with His usual flare for the melodramatic, He split a sea for His favourites and brought it back onto their enemies. Thousands of years later, the same two nations would fight again, but God didn’t need to step in, American tanks were as effective as anything He could come up with.

But He’s been bored for millennia; the last bit of fun in His name was the Inquisition and even that was a bit much for His taste; too damn stupid.

But God’s definitely itching to lay some beatdowns on someone…

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The body was sprawled in a graceful pose, that of a dancer or practitioner of Tai Chi. She still looked alive. But that, of course, was impossible. The spinal cord was powdered, the flesh of her back liquefied.

I looked up to the window from which she had jumped. It looked tiny from the ground, too small to squeeze through and certainly too small to jump from. That was an illusion, the window was huge, it’s just that it was twenty-three floors up.

I suddenly got a little angry. She had overdone it. Pills, slit wrists, even a gun to the head would have been less messy, less showy.

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It’s black and red in my head
Knives and barbs pierce the heart
And rage reigns over all

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If only I’d fed the fish…

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“Brace yourself” was all he would say.

The car hurtled on, gaining more speed by the second. She couldn’t believe he was going to let this happen. He’d decided they were both going to die without even giving her the chance to back out. The cops would never have him, they never could. When it came to time or death, the choice was easy. Better dead than sodomized was what he must have figured. Then again, she didn’t really know. Hell, he might have a suicide complex he failed to mention.

Either way, it didn’t mean shit when they hit a concrete wall doing one-fifty.