I keep looking at the numbers on the date and projecting fwd to 2020. There is a feeling about this that is sort of like something that I will never see.
The two of them are sitting on the sidewalk in front of the credit union. It’s noon and I was expecting it to be open.
I locked my bike, feeling alert and cautious-I said hello. I looked at them hard trying to think into their world and who they are. I walked up the ramp to the door, looked into its darkness and pulled on the locked door. I hesitated for a bit trying to think if I wanted to deposit the check. I decided not to and walked back down to my bike.
Calmly I quipped, “Why didn’t you tell me it was closed?”
I wasn’t feeling very vital. I had been fighting bronchitis for several weeks now. This was Saturday and I had gone to the Dr. with my son Kyrmet. I was now on steroid treatment—made me spacy.
I don’t remember much of the interactive conversation with the two street guys. One of them noticed my reaching out and asked, or made some comment about the madness of the president and the Turks and Kurds. I certainly agreed. I think his words were more to join than to communicate. The three of us seemed to be on the same page about it though, it didn’t indicate all than much knowledge.
(I am feeling impatient about telling this story.)
It got to a place in the conversation where I said, “As far as government was concerned, they could give a shit about you. You and I, we don’t exist.” I paused, “As far as they are concerned, they only care about themselves.”
The one guy made some comment, Do you know about the pyramids?” I actually know a bit and he had some kind of magic stuff about aliens. I mostly ignored it. Then I said, “It has always been a pyramid. This was the nature of human society.”
I continued “Gold at the top, waste at the bottom. Most people are taught to believe they are Divine Meat. You and I, we are of no importance. There are 8 billion of us. We have no voice, no body, no presence, nothing is listening to us.”
I felt I had thrown the arrow of futility and was ready to ride off when he asked me, “How about going to Burger King and bring us a hamburger.” I noticed he didn’t say buy. I felt there was a sensitivity he had developed in the manner of how he asked.
I replied, “No I don’t have a license and besides I’m retired.” I rode a few feet and added, “Actually, I am retarded.” and rode off.
The real irony of this is that I was riding off to go several more blocks to a 7/11 to buy a hot dog for tomorrow’s dinner.
There was a clear realization of all that we are didn’t matter. The only thing that is left of meaning for me is the writing, writing about my visions of life. It is the only thing that engages me.
——
Later this morning after I returned from outside, I was dreaming / thinking about a kind of Dying Service where I, or someone like me, had “Mercy Pills” that one could hand out to useless people like myself and those who have no meaning in existing. Then if they were tired of it all , the nothing of themselves and their struggle, they could have their passover Burger King to put themselves / myself out of our misery.
I might be of service to them. I could volunteer—calling and following up—like those who dispose of euthanized cats like Katanga?
Kind of a realistic horror story of how to cull the population of useless people and other animals. To maintain a viable population balance.
I suppose the next question is : “How we might reach the useless ones at the top of the pyramid of power as well?” Burger King Deluxe!