punktuality
Bluelighter
Astronaut
I staggered out the front door and reached for my fake designer sunglasses to protect my eyes from the day that was assaulting the lingering traces of last night that protracted through my throbbing head. They did little to distract me from chaotic frenzy of malfunctioning neurons that persisted to eat its way through my sanity. It was just another routine Saturday morning to atone for the sins of the night before. Did I sin? What happened? It’s all a bit hazy, but I’m sure I did something wrong to deserve this sensory punishment that I was receiving from the world. I walked down the street squinting one eye smaller than the other to maintain a minimum frequency of light upon my retinas.
I would have driven to save some of this pain but alas I had no petrol money to put in my shit-heap of a car. My legs felt atrophied and heavy as I lumbered on towards my destination. I looked down at my filth encrusted pants that bore the scars of a night on the town last night and embellished with wrinkles from sleeping in those same pants. I started sweating that greasy kind of sweat that only a night of alcohol and substance abuse can produce. I felt dirty… I was. I should probably have a shower when I returned.
“Hey mister!” A young boy exclaimed in a shrill voice that snapped me out of my pointless train of thought.
My head snapped towards the sound and I focused my eyes on the child. I studied the boy’s meagre frame and decided that his unexpected outburst was of no immediate danger.
“Where are you going?” He announced, grating at my eardrums.
I looked at the boy bemusedly and after careful mental analysis of my response I answered him with a hoarse voice:
“I… am going to the shops”
The boy looked at me with an unconvinced gaze and rebutted my obviously uninspired answer with:
“Guess where I am going?”
I had already tired of this scintillating conversation but begrudgingly decided to humour him, hoping that it would soon all be over and I could get back to my self induced stupor.
“Where?” I added.
“I am going to the moon! I am going to be an astronaut!”
He ran away back to his parents green manicured front lawn making some kind of whooshing sound, the sound I hypothesised was one that this said astronaut might make while adventuring the cosmos. I considered pointing out his error of making a sound in the silent vacuum of space but by the time my brain had processed this option he was too far away.
Onwards to the shops, it was only a two minute walk but my altered perception of time and scattered mind made this an epic saga, a mission to be conquered. I looked at my watch curiously; it was 3:38pm. How long had I been asleep? How did I even get home last night?
I arrived at the shops and was immediately overwhelmed by the clamour and sickening motion of people buying there weekly groceries and wares. Lets make this as painless as possible I noted to myself. I walked to the freezer section where the cold snap gave me some relief from the battlefield around me. Some kind of microwavable pizza flavoured pastry snack caught my eye and I hastily decided that this would make a sufficient breakfast. I soldiered on to the alcohol area and collected a bottle of bourbon and some coke for tonight as there was another party to attend. The cycle perpetuates itself. I stood in the checkout line listening to the beeps and blips of the cash registers which melded with the cheesy shopping centre lounge music like an unholy symphony to consumerism. I wanted to get out. I arrived at the register and wordlessly swiped my credit card to pay for my essential items and swiftly exited. The automatic doors jarred open unceremoniously and the bright day and fresh air I loathed not ten minutes earlier was a welcome relief from the vulgarity and florescent lighting of the shopping centre. I looked onward taking a mental bearing for my return journey.
As I trudged along I pondered the question posed to me earlier… “Where was I going?”
I was now going home but I considered the loop of moronic rituality that I was perpetuating by doing whatever it was that I was doing to myself every weekend without consideration. Where was this life heading? Was I in control? I don’t think I really knew. I had been letting myself be ricocheted through life bouncing of obstacles as the harsh mistress of causality whipped me like a lame horse. I looked behind me, there was no one there. I looked back towards the straight narrow path towards my house and continued on my way. A magpie flew overhead and drew my attention to the sky. I looked up to be welcomed by an overabundance of blue. I decided to take of my sunglasses. I looked at the moon which was considerably visible in the sky on such a sunny day. I walked past the lush green lawn that I saw that kid on earlier and looked around but he was gone. I looked up at the moon again. The kid knew where he was going. Where was I going?
I realised consciously for perhaps the first time that I had a choice. Not just a choice of which direction to go or what I should do, but a choice of how to react, how to stay sane. Surely this is what freedom tastes like. Freedom is not a place; it is a state of mind in which a conscious decision is made to avoid being pummelled by the chain reaction of events that is life. We are in a world full of distraught lost minds that shout and cry appeals to freedom as they exhale and silently yearn for answers, meaning and direction as they breathe in the icy fresh air of reality, whatever that might be. Do we want answers or do we want freedom? We can’t have both.
My philosophical sidetrack caught me off guard for a minute. Was this my mind thinking these thoughts? I looked around and realised I was almost home. The return journey seemed remarkably more tolerable.
I thought again about the young boy, perhaps he was in fact going to be an astronaut? I nodded and smiled at the moon as if he were there and silently wished him the best of luck. What ever happened to the boy I was? I once wanted to be an astronaut too, didn’t every kid? My mind was free back then, totally liberated of the restraints imposed on us by society. Wait a minute! There are no bars or chains around me, why can’t I be free? What has convinced so many people that they have no choice? Perhaps that’s what people really want? We want the dependability and repetition of a predictable life. Perhaps that is the closest thing to this meaning that we all have been searching for. Maybe we should stop searching for a minute and take a second to make a conscious decision to be free. That is all it is, a decision! One I could make right now.
That kid made a decision to be an astronaut and at that moment there was no good reason that he wouldn’t fully realise that ambition. My choice to feel like crap and go to the shops to buy supplies to make myself feel like crap again tonight all of a sudden paled in comparison. Was it even a choice or just a drone like response to fulfil my desires of a predictable and meaningful life? My life to that point seemed hopeless… but at least I now realised that I had a choice.
*** this is still a work in progress and was actually based on another piece I wrote in here a while ago ***
I staggered out the front door and reached for my fake designer sunglasses to protect my eyes from the day that was assaulting the lingering traces of last night that protracted through my throbbing head. They did little to distract me from chaotic frenzy of malfunctioning neurons that persisted to eat its way through my sanity. It was just another routine Saturday morning to atone for the sins of the night before. Did I sin? What happened? It’s all a bit hazy, but I’m sure I did something wrong to deserve this sensory punishment that I was receiving from the world. I walked down the street squinting one eye smaller than the other to maintain a minimum frequency of light upon my retinas.
I would have driven to save some of this pain but alas I had no petrol money to put in my shit-heap of a car. My legs felt atrophied and heavy as I lumbered on towards my destination. I looked down at my filth encrusted pants that bore the scars of a night on the town last night and embellished with wrinkles from sleeping in those same pants. I started sweating that greasy kind of sweat that only a night of alcohol and substance abuse can produce. I felt dirty… I was. I should probably have a shower when I returned.
“Hey mister!” A young boy exclaimed in a shrill voice that snapped me out of my pointless train of thought.
My head snapped towards the sound and I focused my eyes on the child. I studied the boy’s meagre frame and decided that his unexpected outburst was of no immediate danger.
“Where are you going?” He announced, grating at my eardrums.
I looked at the boy bemusedly and after careful mental analysis of my response I answered him with a hoarse voice:
“I… am going to the shops”
The boy looked at me with an unconvinced gaze and rebutted my obviously uninspired answer with:
“Guess where I am going?”
I had already tired of this scintillating conversation but begrudgingly decided to humour him, hoping that it would soon all be over and I could get back to my self induced stupor.
“Where?” I added.
“I am going to the moon! I am going to be an astronaut!”
He ran away back to his parents green manicured front lawn making some kind of whooshing sound, the sound I hypothesised was one that this said astronaut might make while adventuring the cosmos. I considered pointing out his error of making a sound in the silent vacuum of space but by the time my brain had processed this option he was too far away.
Onwards to the shops, it was only a two minute walk but my altered perception of time and scattered mind made this an epic saga, a mission to be conquered. I looked at my watch curiously; it was 3:38pm. How long had I been asleep? How did I even get home last night?
I arrived at the shops and was immediately overwhelmed by the clamour and sickening motion of people buying there weekly groceries and wares. Lets make this as painless as possible I noted to myself. I walked to the freezer section where the cold snap gave me some relief from the battlefield around me. Some kind of microwavable pizza flavoured pastry snack caught my eye and I hastily decided that this would make a sufficient breakfast. I soldiered on to the alcohol area and collected a bottle of bourbon and some coke for tonight as there was another party to attend. The cycle perpetuates itself. I stood in the checkout line listening to the beeps and blips of the cash registers which melded with the cheesy shopping centre lounge music like an unholy symphony to consumerism. I wanted to get out. I arrived at the register and wordlessly swiped my credit card to pay for my essential items and swiftly exited. The automatic doors jarred open unceremoniously and the bright day and fresh air I loathed not ten minutes earlier was a welcome relief from the vulgarity and florescent lighting of the shopping centre. I looked onward taking a mental bearing for my return journey.
As I trudged along I pondered the question posed to me earlier… “Where was I going?”
I was now going home but I considered the loop of moronic rituality that I was perpetuating by doing whatever it was that I was doing to myself every weekend without consideration. Where was this life heading? Was I in control? I don’t think I really knew. I had been letting myself be ricocheted through life bouncing of obstacles as the harsh mistress of causality whipped me like a lame horse. I looked behind me, there was no one there. I looked back towards the straight narrow path towards my house and continued on my way. A magpie flew overhead and drew my attention to the sky. I looked up to be welcomed by an overabundance of blue. I decided to take of my sunglasses. I looked at the moon which was considerably visible in the sky on such a sunny day. I walked past the lush green lawn that I saw that kid on earlier and looked around but he was gone. I looked up at the moon again. The kid knew where he was going. Where was I going?
I realised consciously for perhaps the first time that I had a choice. Not just a choice of which direction to go or what I should do, but a choice of how to react, how to stay sane. Surely this is what freedom tastes like. Freedom is not a place; it is a state of mind in which a conscious decision is made to avoid being pummelled by the chain reaction of events that is life. We are in a world full of distraught lost minds that shout and cry appeals to freedom as they exhale and silently yearn for answers, meaning and direction as they breathe in the icy fresh air of reality, whatever that might be. Do we want answers or do we want freedom? We can’t have both.
My philosophical sidetrack caught me off guard for a minute. Was this my mind thinking these thoughts? I looked around and realised I was almost home. The return journey seemed remarkably more tolerable.
I thought again about the young boy, perhaps he was in fact going to be an astronaut? I nodded and smiled at the moon as if he were there and silently wished him the best of luck. What ever happened to the boy I was? I once wanted to be an astronaut too, didn’t every kid? My mind was free back then, totally liberated of the restraints imposed on us by society. Wait a minute! There are no bars or chains around me, why can’t I be free? What has convinced so many people that they have no choice? Perhaps that’s what people really want? We want the dependability and repetition of a predictable life. Perhaps that is the closest thing to this meaning that we all have been searching for. Maybe we should stop searching for a minute and take a second to make a conscious decision to be free. That is all it is, a decision! One I could make right now.
That kid made a decision to be an astronaut and at that moment there was no good reason that he wouldn’t fully realise that ambition. My choice to feel like crap and go to the shops to buy supplies to make myself feel like crap again tonight all of a sudden paled in comparison. Was it even a choice or just a drone like response to fulfil my desires of a predictable and meaningful life? My life to that point seemed hopeless… but at least I now realised that I had a choice.
*** this is still a work in progress and was actually based on another piece I wrote in here a while ago ***
