One Badass Destiny

Knowing Your Destiny

Part 14 of 30

Anyone who knows me knows there's one major flaw in my personality, among all the obvious minor things, that tends to turn people off. And I end up alone. To put it briefly, There isn't really anything I want to go out and do, because no matter what it is, something could go wrong. They say the end of prevention is wasting your life.

Yes, I know all the arguments, along with the gifts and curses of persuasion, what it’s like to hear people wheedle and beg, pleading to the point as it were of great drops of sweat on their forehead, trying to put in greater perspective for me what the opportunities of life are, and, concerning a person's whole being, making the point that from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet, Life is a terrible thing to waste. O, the things I’ve heard; I’ve heard it all! If only they'd breathe that hot air into a hot air balloon, they’d soon have the world’s record for height and longevity, and with a steady crosswind typical of the upper sky, would be in the running for Vacation of the Year. But count me out, I’m not going to crash and burn for anyone's vainglory, no sir.

I actually have very little respect for anyone who does anything. And speaking of vainglory, it’s called that for a reason. You have to be some existence-hating fool to fall for vainglory! The word "vainglory" tells the whole story from “Once upon a time” to “The End.” And when I face my end -- and people have told me that I’ll face a lonely and justified death by my obstreperousness in the face of life’s compelling opportunities -- I hope to have the last laugh, alone in the glories above while the supposed “thrill-seekers” are writhing below, allowing me the final word: “There’s what your life of activity has given you, serious payback, really blowback, with every shiny temptation from your lying lips made up of some of the hot air that made your presence so loathsome to me and your end so justified.” I might tinker with that for greater dramatic effect.

So let’s think of what some of these supposedly desirable “badass” destinies people prefer. Of course a complete survey of the terrain is necessary to make the full case, but I’ll give just a brief sketch of their justifiable demise. The most common summary runs something like this: They thought it’d be A-B-C. They’d open themselves to this experience. Then a mild consequence results, perhaps rejection (which would’ve been preferable) or acquiescence. And so all parties are stripped down to their skivvies. The lights go dark, everyone’s feeling their way, tumescence and detumescence are experienced, the lights come back on and someone has substituted a gorilla for the girl! You’re mauled to death, in addition to being tagged “a bad lover” by a gorilla, no less, and as you’re flitting to the afterlife you behold a horizon full of angels showing thumbs-down, a hideous yet common sign of rejection.

If you're such a “badass,” maybe it’s not your fault that your destiny has badass qualities. And naturally you rejected my caution. But let me plead with you on this one point, whatever you do in your personal life, and no matter who it is with, please use protection. This world is bad enough, we don’t need any cross-pollination between man and gorilla. We passed that barrier back in the old days of evolution.

Destiny Gave You Lemons

Knowing Your Destiny

Part 9 of 30

We know it’s proverbial, sometimes life gives you lemons. Which, unless you successfully make lemonade for a living -- I tried it as a kid and made about a dollar -- you're better off going into apples. The proverb about lemons refers to their sour side and your destiny. You take a big suck off a lemon and the first thing you’ll do, your lips and mouth collapsing on themselves, is pucker up. Your brain knows it's coming, but when those sour drops meet a mouth in equilibrium, they're not disturbed by the brain. Your whole system responds to the lemons with an attitude of “That’s nasty!” 

Someone told me a long time ago that if you get too much lemon juice in your mouth -- the straight stuff -- it can badly affect your teeth, as in messing up the enamel, and I guess that makes them more prone to decay. Fortunately we didn’t get too many lemons when we were kids, because I couldn’t have taken it. My teeth are already fairly bad, and so for anything involving lemons I'd need a bunch of toothbrushes. More often I avoid lemons, actually whenever possible, and even lemon drop candy isn’t that great.

If we're talking about generally negative life events and not literal lemons, that could be your destiny. It's one sour thing after another. And you're spinning your wheels, desperately trying to make "lemonade." But what for? Certainly not to drink yourself. But to put your skills to work, whatever negative bent they've taken, to make the most of your life, even if to now it's a negative output. It's done all the time. But if this is really what you choose to do, I'm not too sure I'd want to know you. It's sort of like, saying, "Yeah, they're bad for me, but that doesn't keep me from making a profit off the suffering and misery of others. Maybe I can find a bunch of desperate guys downtown, get them hooked on lemonade, make a great profit, and if their teeth fall out, that's their problem."

Of course business works that way all the time. "Buyer beware, anything for a buck, it's their funeral." To a certain extent we know it's wrong, but there's very little regulation (as far as I know) involving lemons. Kind of weird. If you made airplanes that were guaranteed to crash, we wouldn't stand for a policy of "Buyer beware." Too much danger for the common good, clearly, whereas if you immediately lose the enamel off your teeth and have to gum bread for the rest of your life, that's something the overall system doesn't care about. I personally hate exploitation like that, but like I said, I tried to sell lemonade as a kid, so I'm just as guilty. Except I was unsuccessful, saw the error of my ways and repented, and immediately closed up shop until heroin became popular.

It's true that I favor certain restrictions on behalf of personal welfare -- I'm mentally half-nanny -- but naturally you can't save everyone forever. Maybe it's their destiny to be served lemons, lemons, lemons everyday, all the time. Lemon-flavored bread, cheesecake, steak sauce, everything you can think of right down to the lowly lemon-flavored turkey drumstick. All those people have to make a living too, and they don't know one mouth from another. You have the bad teeth, you have to make your own choices.

An Enormous Icestorm (Or Not)

I swear, I'm starting to think that ice can be downright dangerous! You try to walk on it and if you happen to make a mistake -- in an unguarded moment of carelessness -- you can go right down! Very slick stuff, ice is, a hazard, a public menace. But what can you say? Sure you hate it, but it's as natural as anything else. You get the right combination of moisture and temperature, and similar to those little trays in the freezer, you've got ice! They don't call it "the icebox" for nothing!

And wouldn't you know it, it's winter, and we're prone to experiencing it firsthand, nature at its worst, which has lulled us into a continual confidence vis-à-vis our legs by uprightness from warmer times being the norm, only to upend us when the cold comes to bear. Slip! You're down, with no undo button, and left to survey the possible damage: "Are my legs injured, did my hands get hurt, how's my all-important spine?" I've known people who've been terribly injured on the ice, then others (like myself) who've come through falls with almost miraculous deliverance.

One time I remember clearly was probably 35 years ago, when my feet went out from under me slick as snot, as we used to say. This was split-second stuff, whoosh! And I hit my head with some violence where I stood. It hurt like hell but shocked me worse, shaking me not just by the physical pain but with what it did to my normal breezy confidence. 'If that could happen as fast as that,' I must have thought, 'then, really, what confidence can I have?' The lesson stayed with me and I've been more careful since. The greatest part of it was I wasn't injured beyond the immediate pain. I shake my head and it's the normal rattle.

Today was the day we were dreading, an ice storm for the ages coming in. When I heard there would be ice build-up of a half inch, in my imagination that's the biggest half inch ever; I pictured it as something closer to three times that. Do I have a faulty imagination? I was never great with math. Or is it that I fear the possibilities of enormous ice so much that to be extra safe is to be extra careful, and as a reminder to magnify the predicament? Could be. I do lots of extraneous stuff, and careful redundancy is my middle name. I make backup copies of grocery lists in case the original is lost. Good thing I don't knit sweaters; they'd be so thick they'd last forever and suffocate you.

As it turned out, at least during the day and in town -- and it may have been worse in other places -- the ice storm was nothing much. Once I got out, inching my way to the car, and casting my ice melt upon the frozen waters, I realized it was nothing. I didn't have a problem in the world! The roads were great. I didn't see a single car in the ditch, whereas during a less-dreaded storm a couple weeks ago I saw two cars spin out in three seconds and wisely turned the other way. What it was like on the interstate, though, I can only imagine. Ice is always so much worse there, with maniac truckers flying by at 80 mph and throwing it on your windshield a foot thick if it's an inch!

I also didn't see anyone fall on the ice. Good for them, but bad for me. Couldn't rush over and do my good deed for the day, helping them up and issuing a heartfelt warning, "Be careful next time, stupid. Let me tell you what happened to me 35 years ago, and everything I learned from it..."

Paranoia -- One Slip, I'm a Goner

At the moment I'm alone. Looking over a barren land, I see the sky a weird reddish color, kind of like you get with Hipstamatic's Bettie XL lens. Of course I'm displeased with that, preferring the exuberance of Lucifer VI with the more realistic tones of Ina's 1969.

It's a day for reflection and a little relaxation, I hope, although the dangers are still very real. A few of you have asked about my bout with Paranoia. So I shall answer. First, I shall climb a nearby promontory -- inching toward the top, up I go, slipping occasionally -- and, OK, an hour later, here I am, looking over an alien vista. Now I shall proclaim!

In the last 24 hours I've been beset with enemies, dimensions of Paranoia that were very weird and very frightening. I found myself in something like the Baskervilles' moors. I'll just tell you one thing, and I'm putting this out there free: Avoid moors, glens, dales, valleys, depressions, bogs, and fens ... If you can't find a high place, go up medium height, definitely not low.

At it happens, water is generally low. Which is part of the problem. Because every variety of pest, vermin, and wildlife -- including the dangerous stuff -- goes there. Now ask yourself, what's the one thing something wants if it has water to drink? Yes, something to eat. As it is in the everyday world, so it is in the psychic realm of Paranoia. The low places are dangerous, and you'd make a great meal.

Well, I opened myself up to all this danger! The entire thing was a disaster, fire ants, fire snakes, the fire variation of every cursed creature ever cursed with horrid life. I made a vow, No mercy for the evil and ugly! To the extent, then, that I could fulfill it -- locally here -- I brought down a serious cudgel on the heads of many creatures. While sustaining bites to my left leg, my right leg, and both arms. If I'm a little grumpy, that's why. One slip and I'm a goner!

Now on higher ground, I look out over the vast wasteland and proclaim: My mind is in high gear. I see the synapses of my brain very much alive, running over both theory and practicum, concerning the things of Paranoia. What a rush! Not just to feel Paranoia's strong drive in real time, but to behold (in 3D) a simultaneous understanding! Soon I shall crash and sleep, but not in a valley!

Here's three things about Paranoia to think about:

1) Paranoia is a response accrued from the realities of life that thwart our desires. We've gone from magical enemies (demons) to the more realistic, 'Everything's out to get me.' Our thinking may be distorted but at least there's evidence you can point to.

2) At the root of Paranoia is the fear of death. 'What I'm afraid of will eventually kill me.' The unrealistic side of it is, You're not dead yet, so you must be doing something right. Bring in that aspect of things to calm the paranoid side.

3) You wouldn't have Paranoia if you dwelt in your natural being. This goes with the fear of death. Our huge concern for our fate represents a duality split, our natural focus being off. Two minds going two ways, as "para" and "noia" mean two minds side by side, like parallel. With a greater drive toward mental unity, Paranoia would have to work harder to drive me. Obviously I'm not saying be happy and die. I'm still going to look both ways before crossing the street. With understanding, though, and getting back our unity, we have the wherewithal to live more peacefully.

All that said, Get me the hell out of this terrible place! I realize fire snakes have to eat, too, and aren't particularly picky. The key for me not to get eaten is to avoid them. OK, easy enough, no more valleys. If I see a valley coming, I'll stay up here on the hill till they're asleep.

As I contemplated this wisdom, I witnessed a sudden flash vision, in Hipstamatic tones alternating between the subdued haziness of Adler 9009 and the golden tones of James M. Before me, I beheld Sister St. Rita of Cascia with Desi the Donkey. Desi came up and nudged me in the side, as if to tell me I had his full support. The beloved Saint was more circumspect, adding to my understanding of Paranoia. She reasoned with me how little, to this point, I had thought of my intelligence, allowing myself to become the prey and the slave of Paranoia. With her mild upbraiding, I felt embarrassed and actually ashamed, but looked ahead to being fully calm and recollected. The vision melted away.

I'm looking ahead to a lot more. If I finally get home to stay, I'll never go roaming anywhere ever again. And I'll let Paranoia work for me, not against me. Heh heh, how about I combine my two minds, then with stereo thinking -- a little this side, a little that -- I'll be on top of every difficulty. Worth a try!

OK, I'm going to descend for a while, and try to fill my canteen. I think the fire snakes are asleep. Their evolution must have been such, indicated by the fire for light, that they sleep during the day and crawl nocturnally. Unless they want to sleep nocturnally and the fire's for warmth.

I'm hoping the biggest problem I have is filtering the water. Looking brownish/yellow as it does, it's kind of what you'd get if you photoed water and used Buckhorst H1 with Cano Cafenol and pictured the muck of Float on the edges! Whoa! When it comes to drinking water, give me something closer to Jane/Sugar every time!

When Nature Kills

There it is again, another one of those terrible headlines, "Men Faint in Grip of Death." The newspapers blare it out, another one is gone, two more have met their demise, or three have all, each one, met their maker through death.

But what are we supposed to do about it? Prevention of course is always the best medicine, but having failed to administer it in time, what are we supposed to do? The short answer is, There's nothing you can do. Maybe throw up your hands in despair, that's always an option. Worthless, but doable.

And we haven't even gotten to the worst part. The worst part is, It could happen to you! I personally have a number of plans for tomorrow, which I will very likely be around to accomplish. Like I usually do when it gets tall, I'll probably mow the grass. I'll be taking the garbage out to the side of the road. And a few things like that, incidental stuff. But it could happen to me! Sudden death could happen, my own senseless end, which is truly unfathomable from the point of view of the normal continuing ego.

But think about it. I'm not that much different from anyone else. And tomorrow, like it or not, there are going to be thousands of people -- 100,000 to 200,000 people, who will croak. Google it! We'll split the difference and say 150,000. 150,000 immortal souls will shed their robe of flesh and ascend into the ether, and be gone. Which means the "Ghost Hunters" show ought to be considered a growth industry. It literally could happen to you!

OK, what do you think the number one cause of death is? It's not drive-by shootings, war, or the ravages of acne. Although of those three, only the ravages of acne is a subcategory of the number one cause. The number one cause of death is "natural causes." A bad heart, whether your own fault or not. Bad lungs, whether your own fault or not. An overdose of Cialis, always your fault, but a hell of a way to go ... I hear. The visitation goes on and on. Takes the undertaker six days to shut the lid.

All those things are ... natural causes. Nature itself, poor, innocent, benign nature ... Mother Nature, even ... is a cold, calculating, heartless serial killer. There's no getting around it! Nature itself is worse than John Wayne Gacy, and all the rest of 'em put together! Yet, what do we like to do? "Go out to nature!" I hear that and it makes me sick. A lady I know does this screwy new age meditation out in "nature," listening to the bubbling creek, the nearly silent flit-flit-flit of butterfly wings, and the "sound of silence" of the passing clouds, not to mention the dulcet warbling of an unseen bird. In my opinion, that's crap.

Another way to look at it, and probably more realistic, is this: You could drown in a bubbling creek, you could open your mouth in wonder and the butterfly could choke you, and the passing clouds could be hiding a tornado. The bird could dive-bomb you and peck your eyes out, leaving you to stagger sightlessly toward home till you fall off a cliff. Then you're dead! And what about the sun? Anyone who's ever crawled halfway across a desert could tell you something about the sun...

The bottom line is, Beware of nature!

Everyday we hear of them, our fellow creatures, who die of "natural causes." And, yes, it sounds so nice. They lived a nice long life, they say, but they don't always speak the rest of it: Nature got them! You can do what you want, that's on you. But as for me, except for what I absolutely have to do tomorrow, like taking out the garbage, I'm staying inside!