A moment of my time please, spare the left hook and damn the submarines, I'm having a moment. Isn't it amazing how twisting cliche's... is cliche? Think about it. How many madMen do so?
Nice feature of Grunts, which is idealogically acceptable to the People's State of my Skull- there is the race of Men, coming in male and female flavors. Verbal engineering people; it builds bridges that no wind will topple, and no earthquake will shake.
Mindquake! That's different. That's... a moment.
What do I want to say? I don't know. I'm not really thinking, just typing, because I have this need for the catharsis of death and deraryness and rambling. Wow, I spellcheck in a stream of consiousness ramble, isn't that amusing? "Backspace" is ingrained into my psyche so deeply that it's not really a matter of hitting a key, it's a thought. In fact, a great deal of my life happens by "thought", not act. My body has been well trained to allow my mind to work on the abstract level of thought, and the body does the labor of turning thought to action.
I like that.
So what? Where is this going? To hell most like. You know what? Requiem is still with me. It still nags at me.
And you know what else? This is the reason that I get uncomfotable around Jen'sate's friend) friends if I'm around them to long. They're sordid. They live a sordid existance, full of failure and suffering, at least many of them do. Barb is probably the most drastic example, but a few others too. There is filth in their life, and they revel in it.
And it makes me jealous. A more drastic example: in Requiem, I was being drawn to that life... the life of those characters. I wanted it. I don't understand it really, but there it is. When presented with a sordid existance, one that is just going to take and take from me, and I can't take anything back, I can't make anything more, the alchemy I want to live by is lost... I want it.
I've had tastes of it. I've dabbled in it, and have inveitably been dissatisfied. And part of me responds with "That's because it is unsatisfying", and another with, "That's only because you're merely dabbling." My last year and a half of college was probably the most thorough exploration of that world I've done.
When it is all said and done however, I honestly reject that lifestyle. But the temptation is still there. And that's why people who have that more sordid life than I bother me. Because they're a reminder of that temptation, and I know I could easily become addicted to it, as they are, and lose myself.
You notice how the stream of consiousness hits a plain and stops flowing and becomes more of a swamp; quite interesting things can be dredged from a swamp.
But... here's a thought... what about both? I mean, the real hazard is that the sordidness in people's lives is often combined with self-destructiveness and wastefulness. Perhaps, perhaps, it can be made a constructive force, not a destructive one. There's a thought to think. And really, that's the root of the matter...