Pilfering the minutiae

necessary…?

It’s an odd thing really.

When one sits back, not obliquely, but dead on, so as not to hold a parallax view in one’s back pocket for future defenses, and takes in the landscape of one’s life and says “Sweet Jesus! what a fucking wreck.”

It’s not necessary, “another Prozac please!” you might whisper to yourself (all rights reserved of course). Or, a scotch or another joint (no rights reserved of course marijuana still having a schedule of I) or maybe a trip to “Bed, Bath and Beyond”. Not necessary in the least.

But, what is the alternative?

Maybe the credo “what people don’t know won’t hurt them” holds, but it doesn’t seem akin to anything like honesty. Does it? I’ve had many experiences with trying to guide people out of Plato’s Cave and I can tell you this for certain, they do not appreciate it.

The people who would appreciate it seem to find their way out on their own. Perhaps that’s the difference. If I show you, you’re a moron and a dupe. If you find it on your own your a fucking genius. Hey, who am I to deprive someone of that experience?

So, I guess the alternative is to make the lonely day hike up to our private mesas, over looking our various disastrous landscapes, cringe or laugh at what we see there and hope that no one ever wonders where we’ve just got back from.

Because we sure as hell can’t try to explain it to them, but rest assured we can make them feel like fucking geniuses.