What’s lost is lost we can’t regain what went down in the flood --- Wedding Song
Have you thrown your senses to the war, or did you lose them in the flood? --- Lost in the flood
And behold, I, even I am bringing the flood of water upon the land, to destroy all flesh in which is the breath of life, from under the sky; everything that is in the land shall perish. --- Genesis 6:17
There was a sort of axiom we used in corrections, not used in the sense that we said it, used more as a way of explaining certain things to ourselves; mankind, we sure love our misery. It’s the sort of thing you don’t really want to be true, or at least it’s not about you or your buddies, but it’s always a little bit true. Always. Pretend the entertainment industry is a good measuring stick for this. Betcha know more break up songs than love songs. Maybe it’s a dead heat.
And yeah, you might watch more comedies than drama’s, but hell, most comedy is at someone’s expense. At one level of sophistication or another it’s all a pie in the face.
Don’t need to go that far to find the truth in this notion; I called it an axiom, which makes it sound cooler. It’s just the first thing that springs to mind that doesn’t call for specific examples that may or may not be broadly applicable. It’s also not really as depressing as it sounds. I’m of the opinion we love our own misery because it’s the only yardstick by which we can measure our own joy. Yeah buddy, suck on them apples.
Oh, the flood stuff. Yeah. We’re pretty fond of misery on a mass scale too. The end has been nigh since recorded history, I mean since we started written language (all over the place). The most catastrophic event in recent American history (because it happened to us, because it was man made and rife with malice), the destruction of the twin towers, within hours people were linking it to Nostradamus predictions of the end of times. I think that’s really what people mean by the end of times; the end of their times, the end of the world as they know it.
I have yet to hear someone say “Oops, might have been wrong on that whole Nostradamus thing, the rest of the shit didn’t happen.”
Huh. Interruptions. It’s almost an hour later now. Maybe that’s why the end of the world hasn’t come, it’s about too and then the doorbell rings “No, the planet doesn’t need an alarm system, we don’t even lock to the hole in the ozone and besides we have guard dogs” and then when it’s about to resume the phone rings “What do you mean you’re out of magma and can’t fill my prescription? No, twice as much chicken noodle soup will not work just as well” And then it’s just kind of “Fuck it, I’ll do it tomorrow, I wonder if there’s a good western on?”
We forget in this day and age that’s it’s not just convicts and junkies that find religion, religion sometimes finds crazies. No offense to religion, crazies, convicts or junkies; some of my most adequate and worst friends are combinations of all that. There are certainly people who think the bible, for instance (picking a religion I know something about), is full of shit except for revelations. I mean most of us have Love and happiness and fame and fortune as our goals, but we expect ruin and damnation. It’s sort of an emotional Pascal’s wager if you love and are happy about ruination and damning.
Why pick this topic and why today? It’s just what rolled off the fingers. Ok, wait, no. I had that one song stuck in my head and I have to do quotes in threes and with the two in place I thought a nice ‘You’re all fucked’ biblical quote would round things out nicely. Yes, I build entries around quotes, sometimes around a single word. You’d think it would work the other way around, but you’d be wrong.
Hmmm, I also didn’t really mean to be all doom and gloom about shit. We don’t love our misery exclusively; we just don’t hate it anywhere near as much as we pretend too. Whether you are a glass half full or a glass half empty sort of person you still don’t imagine the glass to remain in a half-way state indefinitely, the glass and it’s contents have a limited shelf life, even if there will be other glasses with other states of fullness or emptiness. Ultimately it’s our own glass; we know that for our own practical purposes there will be a personal end of the world.
Shit, sorry, bummer and run.
And I’m Spent.
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