It’s so Easy to Get Lost in There: The Disgraceful Treatment of Roseanne Barr

Znalezione obrazy dla zapytania Roseanne Barr

Liberal media-figures and celebrities are having a field day with the cancellation of Roseanne and the public shaming of its main-star Roseanne Barr who instigated the show’s demise via her racist tweet about Valerie Jarett.
When it was announced that eponymous character would return to TV as a Trump supporter, many liberals already fiercely condemned it without even seeing it. It didn’t help that Barr herself has portrayed the basest characteristics of your typical Trump Supporter- meaning inflammatory rhetoric and conspiracy theory. In most cases, they weren’t unfair about Roseanne. We aren’t talking about subversive figures like Sam Harris or even provocateurs like Jordan Peterson; the contrarians who are often misunderstood and sometimes insidiously misrepresented by liberal media forces. Roseanne’s twitter history is full of misguided, borderline racist humour, 9/11 Conspiracy theory, Jewish conspiracy theory (Israel is apparently a Nazi state), Islamophobia and with her support for Donald Trump came the inevitable tirades against Hilary Clinton.

Podobny obraz
One of Roseanne Barr’s typical insane tweets. 

In short, one can make the safe assumption that she isn’t all that stable. One can conclude that sometimes she likes to darkly satirize or joke about issues but in most of these cases she’s absolutely genuine about her political views. She always enjoyed rocking the boat. Her star turn in Roseanne was about a blue-collar woman who didn’t take any shit and would call out bullshit when necessary. In its early inception, before Roseanne’s fragile ego enveloped the show, Roseanne was about the plight and dignity of the working class. It wasn’t about the glamour of making it in America, it was about accepting your place and being there for each other.
The ninth season of Roseanne betrayed this with her character winning the lottery and going into madcap crazy adventures. In its final episode, the show tried to reclaim its authentic blue-collar glory by revealing that everything that preceded it was merely a literary concoction of Roseanne Conner as a way to deal with her husband’s untimely death. Needless to say it didn’t work and it wasn’t until its revival in March 27 that we were blessed in seeing these beloved characters again in the way it was always intended: struggling to make ends meet as they head onto an uncertain future. With age comes different struggles; the inability to pay for the proper medicine, coping with regret and never having achieved certain dreams and the awareness that death is always around the corner.

Znalezione obrazy dla zapytania Roseanne dan
Arguably one of the greatest sitcom couples. 

The show’s final ended with dignity but were it not for Roseanne’s tweet, we would have enjoyed another thirteen episodes in 2019. The media storm that followed came with of sacrilegious preaching against Roseanne’s hidden racism and when that subject lost its steam, it led to long prepared monologues of America’s systemic racism which was ultimately politicized as being part of Trump’s brand of Americana- it didn’t help that Trump turned the whole debacle about himself, as he wondered why ABC’s CEO Bob Igor, who apologized to Valerie Jarett about Roseanne’s tweet, didn’t apologize to him for the horrible comments made about him on his network. This was shortly after it was announced that Kim Kardashian came to the white House to discuss prison reform to Donald Trump- and its moment like these that makes you question your own sanity.

Znalezione obrazy dla zapytania donald trump kim kardashian
Two great intellects…. Yes this really happened. 

Political pundits, commentators and comedians quickly jumped on whatever network would have them to condemn Roseanne and make some liberal progressive points. Countless articles came out, pointing out the cultural significance of her particular slur and the current hard line against it. It’s a celebrity, a Trump Supporter, referring a prominent black woman as an ape- payday couldn’t be easier for them.
In all fairness Roseanne’s actions after the cancellation only made it worse. It seemed like she was begging to be roasted mercilessly. She should have just apologized but instead she quickly went on a mental tirade, calling out her co-stars for not defending her. She also stated that she was under the influence of sleep drug Ambien when she wrote that grossly offensive tweet. She also told Joe Rogan that she had no idea that Valerie was Jewish- this despite the fact that she had referred to a Black person being like an ape five years before in a tweet against Susanne Rice, stating that she was ‘’a man with big swinging ape balls.’’
The company of Safoni tweeted as a response to her: ‘’while all pharmaceutical treatments have side effects, racism is not a known side effect of any Sanofi medication. Ouch.

Znalezione obrazy dla zapytania sanofi reaction roseanne
Zing!

Her volatile behaviour makes it very easy to mock and deride her. In some ways I can fully understand and when one argues she’s asking for it, I can understand that too. Yet I also feel that the kind of vitriol against her is morosely excessive. It’s not just that it feels cheap and easy, to me it also overlooks one particular pressing subject of the human condition: living with a mental illness. Roseanne Barr, besides being a talented stand-up comedian and actress (you might disagree with me but I’ve felt she’s shown both great comic timing an emotional depth in her titular show), she’s also deeply mentally unstable. The origins of her personal demons are hard to uncover as Roseanne has a tendency for hyperbole and the unnecessary polemical. For instance she has claimed that she was sexually abused by her parents, something that was vehemently denied by both the parents and her two sisters Geraldine and Stephanie. On the Oprah show Roseanne regretted making those accusations and that she wasn’t in the right state of mind when she made them. During the time she made these accusations she was a heavy drug user, which along with her own prescription pills at the time, caused her to lose her grip on any semblance of reality. She however didn’t retract the accusations but did regretted the use of the word ‘’incest’’ which seemed to her to be the only word to describe it.
Her volatile marriage with Tom Arnold, who reasonably came to the limelight to also make the case for her mental instability, was one of enabling drug abuse. When she left him, she claimed that she thought Arnold was trying to kill her.

Znalezione obrazy dla zapytania roseanne barr tom arnold marriage
Roseanne Barr and Tom Arnold, a particularly unhinged celebrity couple. 

There’s also the case of a car accident she endured when she was sixteen which resulted in a traumatic brain injury. The damage to her brain caused a rapid change of her personality and her parents weren’t able to deal with her anymore. Eight months after the incident she was institutionalized and during that time she also became pregnant and the resulting child was put up for adoption. She later stated that she was diagnosed with dissociative-identity disorder which in her case, meant that she had seven different personalities running around in her mind, all with varying degrees of extreme emotions. If that wasn’t enough, she also stated that she has ADHD and bipolar tendencies, and from the looks of her actions, it’s hard to dispute the validity of these statements.

Znalezione obrazy dla zapytania roseanne barr crazy
Her life in the limelights and the question of whether this exacerbated her internal frailty.  

Looking at these harsh facts of life, it’s easy to see how increasing fame and media attention, with the sudden boost of narcissism that comes with it, can cause disarray to an already fragile mind. Cue the inevitable fall of her celebrity- and the rise and fall that has happened recently- and you have yourself a perfect example of a celebrity mental case. Some people just can’t handle celebrity fame, their ego’s and insecurities taking them to strange places- Prince isolated himself and become a devoted Jehovah’s Witness, Nicolas Cage’s eccentric tendencies are heightened and Justin Bieber acts like a wannabee thug. It’s not a normal life and though it’s easy to make fun of them- as I more than often do- it’s also good to understand that if we were in their particular shoes, we might not be as cool as we imagine ourselves to be. When your life is dissected and judged by strangers, it’s easy to lose grip of who you are.
Especially if by the time of your infamy, you didn’t even know what you yourself wanted from this life. And even if you receive what you had always dreamed to receive, it might not be enough. The high ends and you’re back to square one. Perhaps you needed something else but now, as you’re lost in the shimmering lights of flash-photography, you don’t know where to look.
You’re lost. It’s so easy to get lost out there.

Jimmy Kimmel recently came to a slight defence of Rosanne: rightfully condemning her remarks but also calling for compassion on her side.  The obvious response was:  mental illness does not cause racism. Stating this means you are missing the point. Mental illness means losing your grip on reality and yourself. It means that you are able to unreasonable things, sometimes even dangerous things to yourself and others.
Consider Roseanne’s life before the infamous tweet: her health problems, the return of media exposure, the pressure of her work-schedule and let’s face it: her tendency to abuse chemicals, all of this can lead to a warped perception- such as thinking that such a racist tweet is ‘’humorous.’’

Znalezione obrazy dla zapytania Jimmy kimmel defense Roseanne
Kudos for Jimmy Kimmel coming to her defense. The negative response might be partly an awareness that perhaps Roseanne isn’t just the racist demon they perceive her to be. 

It’s not an excuse and rightfully it was condemned by all respectable media forces- even some of the less respectable ones like the alt-right hack Tomi Lahren tweeted that her tweet was simply ‘’wrong.’’ Unfortunately, the current political climate of the progressive left is unforgiving, especially when it comes to any perpetrators of racism or sexism. Every day bloggers and journalists fill their sites or papers with solitary examples of racisms just to get the juices of social-justice warriors flowing. People love to smack down these racist and sexist evildoers and that’s perfectly understandable- and a lot of fun too. Perhaps this is also partly as a sign of resentment against the current buffoon in chief. But it has also become such an obsession that sometimes, the bigger picture is missed.
It’s certainly true that there is still is intense bigotry among the American populace that needs to examined and clarified but it’s not the only demon lurking in its culture. While victims of racism and sexism are almost fetishized daily on every newsfeed, the roots of some of these isolated moments of bigotry never seems important. It’s just people being racist or sexist, just white men ruining it for the rest of us.
But it’s rarely that simple. I’m certainly not stating that mental illness is the root cause of all racists. Some people are just bigoted. But trying to understand why people are saying such things instead of pushing them in a corner, especially when this very person might be suffering from mental illness should not be the right answer. Sometimes it’s just culture, influences of misguided parenting, traumatic events or being under the spell of populism. Undoubtedly Trump has fuelled racism in America, creating a frightening universe for some white men where their identity and culture are under attack by either Muslims or liberal-progressives. At the same time, Trump has also spouted simplistic and insidious conspiracy theories, something that attracts the paranoid mind to no end. Numerous studies have looked into how mental illness and conspiracy theories are often linked. We’ve all seen footage of Trump-supporters recalling the most ludicrous anti-Hilary theories on camera. The Russia state media thrives on fuelling identity politics and conspiracy theories into the fringe voters of Russians (or whatever country they are trying to influence).
The symptoms are there with many and it’s easy to make fun of them but in these divisive times, it’s especially necessary to try to understand them. It’s not easy but her sin is not ours to forgive. We’ve forgiven many other celebrities for greater transgressions while we’ve demanded the disappearance of others. Rarely is there any consistency. Is Jim Carrey’s endorsement of anti-vaccine’s propaganda not offensive and even dangerous? We’ve accepted Mel Gibson back in the Hollywood flock despite his history of domestic abuse. What about celebrities who were horrible and selfish parents? Doesn’t that cause immense suffering on the subjects? The outrage culture is selective in its anger and we should have the mental capacity to challenge it. We don’t all have to follow the stream of hate because if we don’t, we might channel our anger towards someone who might equally deserve our understanding.

Looking at Roseanne’s history of conflicting and contrarian politics- a socialist in the golden days of her Rosanne fame who fervently stood up for LGBT rights to becoming a deranged Trump supporter- one sees that we are not just looking at some simple right-wing ideologue. Being prone to conspiratorial fantasies, either one fostered by George Bush, a Jewish cabal or George Soros, reveals a deeply paranoid woman who is eager to fight the power. Like many misguided activists, she considers herself to be enlightened about the insidious mind-games being played on the voters. She doesn’t realize she’s trapped in her own mind-games or ones devised by the real villains of American politics.

Znalezione obrazy dla zapytania trump rally
The false profit and his flock. 

Through the years many voters have learned to distrust the media and politicians so much, that only the colourful words of populists seem to make any sense anymore. People don’t know what’s real anymore and they fear being fooled- as they have been, time and again. When somebody speaks to them without complicated political jargon, who tells them honestly that they have been robbed and lied to, why wouldn’t they listen to him? If you believe his version of reality, the world seems less complicated: you know who the bad guys and the answers of society’s ills are suddenly so simple.
Roseanne, like many of her kin, was always sensitive to unravelling the hidden machinery of the elites. She grew up in a time when the American dream was constantly proven to be fraudulent, whether this is due to the ever increasing popularity of John F. Kennedy’s assassination theories, the Watergate scandal, sheer gory pointlessness of the Vietnam war, the illusionary weapons of mass destruction of Saddam Hussein or the great financial crisis of 2008, where the dream of laissez-faire capitalism truly died. All these peddlers of the American dream turn out to be simply filling their pockets. The revelations of hidden money just made her mad, as it did to anybody who wants to rally against injustice. Roseanne, just like a near poignant half of American voters, became increasingly sensitive to the whims of a populist.
All she wants, just like the majority of Trump voters, was the corruption to stop.
But unfortunately the corruption has only festered. Though the American system still continues to be democratic, the institutions are continuously weakened and our supposed guardians have sold their idealism for self-preservation.

Znalezione obrazy dla zapytania trump rally
The giant swamp of corruption that is Trump Land. 

If Roseanne could see this, she would have been an essential ally for liberals but she can’t. And judging by her mental instability, I don’t think we shouldn’t judge her too harshly for it.
Many of her outlandish actions are almost bipolar or borderline-personality in nature. They seemed impulsive and she seemed unable to grasp the potential consequences of them. Nothing makes what she said or does right. But speaking from personal experiences, good people can say stupid or cruel things when they are not in the right frame of mind. I’ve been around people who suffered from all manner of mental illnesses and deep down all of them were loving individuals- it’s just that sometimes you couldn’t see it when they were lost in their particular neurotic mania.
If you consider yourself a social-justice warrior and want to fight for the rights for minorities, understand that Mental illness transcends race or gender. This is why I’m often annoyed with the constant mention of ‘’white privilege’’, as if white people cannot suffer equally or sometimes more horribly than other races or gender. They might not suffer in similar ways but if they happen to suffer from severe mental or emotional instability, their supposed privileges are not going to matter. It will feel to them that life has become a living hell.

Znalezione obrazy dla zapytania mental illness quote
Both Roseanne and I are not fans of Bill Clinton, but he’s certainly right on this issue…

And it’s not easy to understand them. But it’s easier to understand them than it is to suffer from their specific or multiple disorders. Roseanne Barr has made hundreds of inane tweets after the cancellation and her state of mind cannot be good right now. The response to this was the same cruelty and dismissiveness as before. As Tom Arnold stated in an interview: ‘’somebody should put a stop to this.’’
Jimmy Kimmel stated in his defense of Roseanne that ‘angrily attacking a woman who is obviously not well does no good to anyone. Mental health issues are real. The real Roseanne I know could use some compassion right now.’’ Kimmel received a lot of criticism for this and all of them reveal painful ignorance about what it means to be living with mental illness. And to me, the cruelty of the media and supposed compassionate social justice warriors is disheartening. Dismissing her as being ‘’a racist idiot’’ like John Legend does is not helping any of us. You might think racism or sexism are the most pressing issues right now, but mental-illness belongs to be their equally. With America’s treatment of mental illness of late- especially with the pharmaceutical companies taking advantage of people’s weaknesses- you’d think that more people would stand up for her. But instead media figures are just scoring cheap points as they degrade and debase her as their fan base cheers and hollers.
The real Roseanne Barr, the one who suffered enough as it is, deserved better than this.

Znalezione obrazy dla zapytania Roseanne better days
***

You Got a Problem With Me?

At first he pretended that nothing unusual had happened. Just another fit of rage. Just another asshole who looked at him the wrong way. People get hurt sometimes, it happens. When things cool down, everything will turn back to normal. The adrenaline helped. The adrenaline justified the violence. He kept shaking as he was holding the gun in his hand. The ringing in his ears wouldn’t stop. The victim kept screaming for help, his wife was crying was next to him. Someone was phoning the police and informing them of the address. He screamed for the witnesses to shut the fuck up and they wailed in fright.
Normally he didn’t have a gun with him but he was especially paranoid today. He was sure someone was watching him. Sometimes he could hear them in the walls. Sometimes he could see their shapes running away when he spotted them in the corner of his mansion.
Someone told him to drop the gun.
Did he knew this guy or not? He couldn’t be sure.
He saw himself shooting the man, saw him crawling on the floor, saw another round explode in his back. He knew what he asked him before he shot him.
”You got a problem with me?”
The man begged him to drop the gun. And for a second, he knew what he had done. He knew this awareness would slip away eventually and when it did, he would start running again. He would look for the monsters again.
”Just pull the trigger,” he said, ”please just pull the trigger…”
The wife of the victim would not stop crying. He pointed the gun to the woman and looked at the man- friend, enemy or hallucination?- hoping this would make him shoot him. But he didn’t have it in him. He could put the gun to his own head but he knew he couldn’t do it either. There was something inside his head that wouldn’t allow it. It needed him to live. No matter how miserable he was or how dangerous he was to others.

And I never meant to hurt everybody, I swear…
Sirens in the distance. From the window he could see the red lights coming closer. Maybe he could make them shoot him.
But that’s just what they wanted wasn’t it! He suddenly figured. That was their plan all along! ”Not me,” he said, looking down at the grieving wife, her shirt covered in the blood of her dying husband, ”they aren’t going to get me this easy.”
He bend down, the grieving wife held husband close to herself, hoping to protect him. He grabbed the husband’s hand, the other was still holding the gun. He squeezed the husband’s hand as he looked into his dying eyes.
”Don’t worry you’re safe now,” he said, ”things are going to be alright from now on. You always fear that they are stronger than you but in reality, it’s they are the ones who are really afraid. Now that they know we mean business, they are to hide for a while. But I’ll keep looking. I’ll always keep looking…”
Znalezione obrazy dla zapytania foxcatcher john dupont carrel
***

YOU HAVE SO MUCH WORK TO DO

I’ve said this many times before and I don’t want to say these words again, but I can’t help it…

”I was doing so well. I thought I’d finally woken up from the nightmare. I would never fall asleep again. I thought it would never come back. I was too strong for it now.
I educated myself on it.
I taught myself to see the signs:
-The repetitive questions,

the way it keeps coming back,

asking the same questions again and the right answer only satisfies it for a short while

and then it’s hungry again.
-the need for confirmation,
even for the most obvious goddamn things.
You ask once and soon you’ll ask again.
You know you’ll never be free if you keep making it stronger.
-The thoughts has a peculiar feeling,
they are not normal thoughts,
they are diseased,
they smell,
the make you sick from the inside.
-The biggest question of all:
is this just OCD
or is this reality?
Don’t you have a sneaking suspicion this is reality?

All I want is to look at her face and enjoy her company.
All I want is to be left alone with her,
why can’t you just leave me alone with her?

I even gave it a monstrous face,
despite the fact that it’s nothing more
than chemicals in my brain.

It’s a monster in my head,
and it’s doing is toying with my brain receptors
and the only way to make it is to dope yourself with medication
or learn to break the habit.
Know its patterns
know the signs
and then move on.
Make it starve to death.

Start meditating again,
close your eyes,

take a deep breath,
accept what’s going on with you.
Go to the gym
and lift weights,
run the treadmill,
go that extra mile,
make yourself like you can’t take one more step.
Wear your boxing mitts and get inside the ring,
don’t flinch when you see your opponent coming for you,
take his punches,
slide to the left and hit him back.
It’s okay to bleed.
Bleeding is just what you need.
It’s okay to break some bones,
it’s okay to be scared,
take it,
learn to defend yourself and then hit back.
Get outside your head,
get outside your head,
get outside your fucking head.

Write about your experiences,
express yourself creatively,
give it a voice,
make it mean something,
draw something,
even if you can’t draw for shit.
Start a picture collage,
make random pictures of strangers on the streets,
who cares if they get annoyed?
You are just trying to get by like everyone else.
You are trying to make something mean something to yourself like anyone else.
Start writing again,
a poem, a novel, a novella, an essay, a fucking blog,
anything,
the only way to make anything meaningful is to write about it.
If it’s on paper it means something,
if it has a title,
if characters have arcs,
if it’s real,
if it’s based on your experiences,
if it was just the thing you needed to do
and made you feel so good,

if only for a while
then it fucking means something.

Make it mean something,
even if it doesn’t seem to have any meaning.
Even if there doesn’t seem to be an end to it,
even if it all seems like a pitiful joke.
Make it mean something

and somewhere along the line,
after doing all of that,
you’ll wake up from the nightmare,

probably.”

See.

Znalezione obrazy dla zapytania foxcatcher cinematography

***

What Matters Most

My tattoo is imperfect
just like this poem.

My Bukowski/Buddhist/sugar-skull tattoo is imperfect
just like my brain.
My brain is and has always been imperfect.
It was imperfect the second I was born.
It became increasingly imperfect the older I became.
Now I’m filled with irrational fears
and obsessive-thoughts.
The tiniest details can be terrifying.
A small innocuous act can be interpreted as subconsciously malicious.
A small meaningless imperfection can be the end of the world.
A tattoo, with an imperfection, can make me want to cry and hide away in shame.

But then it dawned on me about the message of the tattoo:

What Matters Most is
how well you
walk through the
fire.

Sometimes when I walk through the fire, I stumble.

I carry with me an imperfect brain as I try to cope with existence and make it something worthwhile and meaningful.
One of my greatest struggles is my obsessive-compulsive disorder.

The mind that fixates on my every little deeds
and scrutinizes my every thought.
The monster I always carry with me,
the monster that makes me doubt the most beautiful aspects of my life.
The monster that makes me want to hate myself.
He will always be there,
he will never go away.
Just like this tattoo.

But like my imperfect brain
and like my imperfect tattoo
there are beautiful things to it too
if I look at the bigger picture
if I notice the shadow
and detail
and if I see clearly enough,
I began to realize that this imperfection doesn’t really matter.
It’s part of me,
part of who I am.

I have to accept it
because
there is no other way.

There is no you without your imperfect mind.

There is no you without this imperfect tattoo.

There is no you without the fire.
And it burns,
it can burn for quite a while.

There are scars
and there are bad memories
and there are tattoos:
self-inflicted wounds and works of art.

They are there to remind us of something,
to bring us closer to ourselves.

And as I’m looking down at it now,
noticing the shadows
that make the lotus flower on its head stand out
think it looks beautiful.

Don’t you think so too?

Image may contain: one or more people
***

Our Disease 20

Kill the Bug

It was a beautiful dream. It was a dream full of angels. He had a sudden mission in life: to return to the world and save mankind from the bugs eating their brain. If he did this, they would come for him. He would be allowed to live among them, in the place that followed the promises of his country, promises he had heard about since he was a child at school. Promises that were broken again and again.
There was a preacher, an old friend who he could never say goodbye to, his mother, the lover that would one day find him, there was the demon that turned out to be an angel. There was no fear, we conquered it. We were ourselves, we were free to explore our eccentricities, it would be explored on paper. So many people were lost in the old world, now we found each other and made sure nobody got lost. Everyone was welcome, the tired as well as the poor. If we could only see ourselves for who we are, if we weren’t so afraid, this world could be ours.
He had asked the angels what he was supposed to do.
They told him to watch for the sign, you would understand then. Everything would be clear.
But you must go all the way, it’s the only way to escape this world. The only way to escape this prison.
Reality is the dream, all you have to do is wake up and pull the trigger.
Znalezione obrazy dla zapytania david lynch i fight with myself
Art by David Lynch

***

 

 

Our Disease 17

 Alan Kurd 

It was not going to be a good show today, but it didn’t matter. There was a need to speak out, even if he couldn’t speak about the thing that made him want to speak out. This was his only home, this is where he could find himself every now and then.
But a doubt came in his mind. Maybe this home will taken from him as well.
The topic was less than hopeful.
”The children read stories starring magnificent animals,” started Harry, ”those animals don’t exist anymore. We wiped them out. When I was born, most of the damage had already been done. My mother told me there were people warning us, giving us countless evidence but nobody would listen. It just became worse. We believe this world belongs to us, all the other creatures just have to make space for us…”
He took a gulp of a vodka bottle next to him, trying to numb the effect of this particular intrusive thought: where he would see the head of decapitated boy, rolling senselessly around in circles. The worst was the sound. He was still calling out for his mother.

”…They even continued diminishing restrictions on how to slaughter animals. The bullfighting went on for years. When the bull won, they would slaughter his offspring. They would shoot bears when they were hibernating. Even now, with the advancements we need cloning, there’s still a large demand for the meal of live animals, even though cloned meat is exactly the same, but they don’t believe so. There’s all these Disney movies and we think them cute, we humanize them, but what did we do in the end. All these beautiful creatures. We knew what we were doing. We fucking knew…” another gulp.
”But even before the massive floods, before the constant hurricanes, before the hundreds and even thousands of deaths due to global warming, we could have prevented it. It’s just that nobody listened. Nobody fucking listened. They even shut down the EPA for a while, just so they wouldn’t be telling these things to people. The poor died. Those beautiful animals died. For us. So that we can do what we want with this place. I keep thinking about these animals. I keep thinking about them. And I think that perhaps, it was better that none of us were here in the first place. We could call this evolution 101. Simple biology. Survival of the fucking fittest. But do you like that story? I don’t. I don’t like that story at all…”
Harry was silent then. He didn’t know what to say. No words seemed reasonable anymore. He had already strayed far from his script, he thought he was going somewhere with this but maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he’s going nowhere, maybe that’s the point.
Dead air for almost a minute. Dale waved his arms around wildly, hoping to catch Harry’s attention on the other side of the glass. Harry saw him but did not respond. There were no words.
Dale knew something was wrong with his boss. Despondency was normal with him, but there was a despair in his eyes that went beyond the regular depression. Those were the eyes of a man that saw something and knew he could never come back.
The rolling head, the call to his mother. The telephone, a call from his mother. Pick up the phone, somethings wrong. For god’s sake pick up the phone…
We have some unfortunate news to tell you…
We are very sorry…
I never knew she could do such a thing, I always thought she was the strongest persons alive.
Rumors were abound that she suffered from a mental illness. We need to have more awareness about mental illness…
This is the absurd world we live in.
I’m sorry mom. I’m so sorry…
The words came back: ”…There’s a viciousness in the human animal that no other animal can match. My mother used to speak about that there inherent good inside us, it’s just that most of us don’t know what to do with it. If we could just tap into the good stuff and use it in the right way, we would figure out what to do with this world. But I think my mom, always known for someone dishing out the heavy truths, was naive. She wanted the return of true believers, but the truth of the matter is, there were just not enough of here. There never was. She believed that if only people understood what is going on, if they understand the truth, that people will do the right thing. Maybe this could be true if enough people had faith, but there’s too much cynicism, too much misanthropy, too much goddamn darkness we take for granted. A mind-virus went into our heads and spread from child to child. Adam ate from the goddamn apple. Pandora’s box has long been opened. It’s too late. We are damned. There were some that were immune but they could never find a cure. One would think common sense could be the cure. But we are too emotional for common sense… I ..”
Another gulp, a sigh and then: ”I was supposed to talk about something else but I forgot. Tell you the truth I don’t care. I’m supposed to tell the truth here but I can’t. There are things I just can’t share with you. I’m not here anymore. I’ve lost myself. I’ve lost myself a long time ago…”
Silence, then: ”this will be my last broadcast. I hope you are well there. I hope I inspired something positive to your lives, to whoever is listening. Take care of each other, for the love of god, take care of each other..”
End of final broadcast.

”I’m sorry Dale,” said Harry when he joined him in the sound-booth, ”I should have told you, but to tell you the truth I didn’t know before I was talking. I will make sure you will get an advance. I’m sure you can find a place. I’ll give my recommendation if it’s worth a fuck.”
”That’s alright man, come sit down please.”
Harry sat down in front of him, Dale offered a him a joint and Harry shook his head. ”I’m drinking today,” he said, lifting up the vodka bottle.
”Does any of this have to do with Stone?”
Harry swallowed but then quickly shook his head, ”no I… just need to move on.”
”I know he is your friend and all, but I don’t trust him. There’s something about him. My mother had this about people too. You can just feel if something is off. She always said that the devil could never fool her. I hope I can consider myself the same.”
”You’re right, there’s something very wrong with Stone. The devil hasn’t fooled you at all.”
Dale took a deep puff, ”you sure you want to do this man? Where are you gonna go?”
”I don’t know. Maybe I’ll wander the world. I don’t have much money, but maybe there’s a better place for me out there.”
”I’ll miss you man.”
”I’ll miss you too. It was a good ride wasn’t it?
”It wasn’t always easy but it was an honor working for you man. I really believed your words.”
”I never thought you really listened.”
”I always did. But I’m not the only one. I hope you realize there many out there who listened to your words. I hope you will remember this and not remain silent for ever. You made the world a little saner every week.”
”Thank you Dale. If you need anything, maybe a nice severance package, let me know.’
”I appreciate that Harry.”
Harry got up, they shook hands.
”Do one thing for me Harry?”
”What?”
”Follow the music. If you know where the music is, you will find your way. I don’t know what I would do without the music.”
”I’ll do my best to listen.”
The shake quickly turned into a hug. They said goodbye one more time and then Harry left the building.

When Harry was walking toward his car, he noticed someone sitting in his passenger seat. He didn’t care who it was, he just got into his car, sat down, sighed, lit a cigarette. He offered a cigarette to the passenger.
”Tell you the truth, I didn’t like today’s episode that much,” said the preacher, ”the message just didn’t sit well with me.”
”I got pall-malls,” said Harry, passing the preacher a cigarette.
”Thanks,” the preacher lit his cigarette. They shared a silence.
”These are better cigarettes, gotta admit that.”
”I’ve got good taste.”
Harry took a deep puff, he looked at the preacher and noticed a big envelope on his lap. ”Is that for me?”
”Yeah, I was supposed to just leave this here for you. But I thought I’d give it to you in person. I thought it was better, considering what happened. I don’t think it’s right to even give you this, but he thought you should know.”
”He saw what happened.”
”Yes, but he doesn’t blame you for it. He didn’t expect it would happen though. He had heard about Stone and knew he was an evil prick but this surprised even him. Though, upon further research, this is not the first time he did such a thing. That’s the thing about evil men. We consert with them. We befriend them. And when we look back upon the carnage, we wonder how we couldn’t see it. But deep down, we knew the signs were there.”
”It’s a shame he didn’t see it. Maybe we could have prevented this.”
”it’s nobody’s fault but him”
”Did you know him?”
”No, he wasn’t part of our clique. But that doesn’t matter. He didn’t deserve this.”
”No he didn’t. Then again, that’s the way of the world. So many walk around who deserve worse or better. Ain’t no justice in this world. There’s just chance.”
”I can tell you again that it wasn’t your fault but we know you aren’t going to listen. Just as it wasn’t your fault about what happened to your mother.”
”I don’t want to talk about it.
”We understand…”
”No you don’t.”
”Maybe we don’t. We just know it hurts.”
Another silence.
”So has he lost interest in me?”
”He hasn’t, but for your sake and for others, he’s gonna leave you alone. This is going to be last message for a while.”
”For a while?”
”When you’re ready, he will return but it’s up to you.”
”I guess I want to be left alone then. Would have saved everyone a lot of trouble if he did this in the first place.”
The preacher sighed and quoted his favorite author, ”there’s love enough in this world for everybody, if people will just look.”
Harry took a deep puff and replied: ”good luck to you preacher.”
”Auf wiedersehen,” said the preacher who got out of the car, left the envelope on the passenger seat and walked away.
Harry finished his cigarette before he grabbed the big envelope. On the back it said: YOU DON’T HAVE TO READ THIS, IT’S UP TO YOU.
He opened the envelope, it was a file. It was about young man named Alan Kurd. He had been an orphan, lost his parents when he was twelve years old in a car accident. His mother had initially survived but died in the hospital, little Jimmy was there, he cried out for her to return. He became a delinquent. Didn’t do well in school. Arrested for being part of a terrorist hacker group. Missing.
Harry began to cry, ”you didn’t deserve it,” he began to mumble, ”you didn’t deserve it.”

The boy had a name now. It’s always harder when it has a name.
Podobny obraz
Art by Alwy Fadhel

***

Our Disease 16

     The Disease

There had been a big debate between the nations most popular political commentator. The first was a right-wing pundit by the name of Sean Reilly. The second was a politically moderate- or someone who merely upholds ‘sane’ positions as she would refer to it- by the name of Anna Snyder, who also happened to be Harry mother’s.
It had been filmed the previous night, the mother and son were watching it, each eating a bucket full of buttery popcorn. Popular consensus- though this naturally depended on which media you were watching- said that she had annihilated Reilly’s every argument.
”The question is who can we trust? The businessman or the politician,” said Reilly behind the right side of the debate table, ”and all it depends individually off course. But I would argue, that a country is a business, American is a corporation and it needs a good CEO. That’s what the president should be, a good CEO. A traditional politician thinks in nations and peoples but that’s not how the world works. There was a time when we needed politicians, but that time has long ended. There’s a new vision of America. A politician will sell you dreams, a business will teach you how the world really works.”
”The world works that way because we gave them the freedom to do this. This freedom needs to end.”
”That’s left-wing extremism!” balled Reilly ”you want to go back a regulated market, where government forces pick-pocket hard working Americans or ‘job creators’, so they can continuing financing a corrupt system. It’s my money. Why should I give those people my money I worked so hard for!”
”Now let’s settle down,” said the moderator who sat in the middle of the table.
”I’m not asking for a socialist-utopia,” said Anna, sipping from her glass of water, I’m asking for a regulated market, because this supposed invisible hand, you and your disciples are all so keen about, has a tendency to fill the pockets of the rich. It’s not just you. This is not your country. This is our country. We made you and you made us.”
”I made myself.”
”Your daddy and mommy did help you didn’t they?”
Sean looked at her furiously, then sighed, ”This is the modern world. We can’t go back anymore. Reagan started something beautiful. And we have to finish it.
”Look at the world your disciples have created. Look at this century of deregulation. This Americana penned by Ayn Rand, inspiring the Trumps of this world, the winners and loser mentality. It’s a rigged system, it’s rigged because this is what you always wanted. It lapses toward authoritarianism when it’s necessary. There’s the denial about what we are doing to this planet of ours. Our place on this world, our continued dominance precipitated the sixth-extinction. So many beautiful animals had to pay the price for our wants and needs. We didn’t treat our fellow humans any better. Just look at the epidemic of unemployment caused by automation and yet still, even with little cost to themselves, they fight over universal income. The job creators who refused to give the people health-insurance. The robots of this world get better care than the poor.”
Sean sighed, he knew he’d lost, and he seemed tired, ”’It’s always the same. We are the dumb ones. The left are the smart ones. If you had been in charge the world wouldn’t look much better.
”Like the left has always been the rational party. Like you were going to make the world a better place…”
”Again, I’m not a left-winger, just because I uphold certain left-wing positions just as I uphold right-wing positions. We just have a different definition or to be frank, you are just polemicizing this debate because that’s how you’ve always won. Not by reason, but by playing on your base. I don’t do that. I win and lose so many fans of mine because sometimes I turn to the right and sometimes to the left. I don’t compromise my reason but that’s my business; the academic, scholarly, journalistic fashion. You are in the pundit business, things have to be one side. Things have to be in two. You don’t give a crap about reason…”
Sean’s face turned red as he started mumbling, trying to find the words. Harry and mother were laughing loudly. She was sitting in a big lazy chair, her son lay on a comfortable couch.
”Can you believe the Breitbart poll has him winning by over eighty percents?” said Harry, who then shoved popcorn in his mouth, ”the gullibility of these people is hilarious.”
”Yes,” said Anna, who couldn’t see the humor in this, her smile decreasing, ”it doesn’t matter what I say to them. They got to them, they got them for good. For a century they’ve been told not to trust us. To distrusts journalists, historians and human rights workers. They indoctrinate in schools and churches. We will never reach them again…”
”Fuck em” said Harry, who didn’t pick up the hint of melancholy in his mother’s voice, ”it’s tiresome debating these people. If they can’t accept certain fundamental truths what hope is there? Eventually you just gotta spread the good word, no matter who it offends.”
”Well Harry, that’s where I came from. Those are my people.”
”You’re better than them.”
Anna didn’t say anything, but after a while, she got up and left the room. When Harry realized she was gone, he called out for her.
”I’m on the balcony.”
Harry got up, went to the balcony. They were on the top floor of a high-rise apartment, in a reasonably affluent neighborhood in New York. She was staring out into the starry night. The sounds of movement below, faint voices. Harry stood next to her, gentle brushed her shoulder.
”Mom, you okay?”
”I’m okay, just the futility of what I do gets to sometimes.”
”Oh mom, you’re just making a living. You’re not supposed to change the world.”
”You tell yourself that, it’s just a business. But you get to a point where you think, that maybe you can make a difference. Things have to mean something.”
”I’m not much of a believer mom. The age of true believers have long gone.”
”I don’t want you to become like them, Harry. I want you to be better than them.”
”I believe in the good things mom, I just don’t believe this world is one of them. It’s too much history. Every moral experiment, ends with people doing what’s good for themselves. Man is a selfish animal, there’s nothing else to it.”
Anna kept looking into the starry sky, she singled out one star, imagined going down with it. We all fade into stardust.
”This world is stacked with good people but something is holding them back. There’s a sickness, a disease. It’s been spreading for so long now. The people that spread them, these mind-viruses don’t even know it. It takes so long to break the chain of history and so many new monsters are build in that momentum. There’s so many bugs in our system. The bugs are everywhere.”
”Mom, did you take your medication?”
Anna didn’t say anything for a while, she felt herself slipping into a dark place. A voice inside asked for her to snap out of it: you are with your son. He’s leaving tomorrow. Make it a nice time.
”Let’s finish watching the debate,” said Anna, turning around and hugging her son. ”You’re such a good boy you know that?”
”Oh mom. If I am, it’s your fault. I would be nothing without you.”
She held him, a bit longer than usual. It worried Harry, but when she stopped and kissed his cheek and smiled at him, she seemed like was normal again.

Twenty years later. Harry was on his computer, scrolling through pictures of his mother. There was an old one, where she stood next to the father he never knew. The one from his wedding, when she had been quite inebriated. There were many more. One in particular, probably one of the last pictures ever made for her, she looked so happy, on the beach looking into the blue sky of Hawaii. He never realized how beautiful she really was.
Her words came back to her, how ashamed he was. The decapitated boy kept appearing in his mind. Even though it was not his fault, he still blamed himself. It was his initial input that put his death into motion. It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t his plan, if it wasn’t for him, the boy might still have been alive.
Stone came back from the shower, a towel was covering his middle. He entered his room, saw his ‘friend’ scrolling through the pictures.
”She was a helluva woman,” said Stone who stood next to him now as Harry kept scrolling ”she could have been a game-changer, ”she was the most fearful enemies of people like me. Most people might had the wits but they didn’t have what she had. A fearlessness, this uncompromising nature.”
Harry refused a speak a word to him, he mindlessly scrolled to another. Stone noticed it but pretended he didn’t.
”Boy she hated me. She saw right me, that beautiful woman.”
Silence. Stone sighed, ”look you don’t need to worry. None of this will come back to you. The boy wasn’t from around here. Nobody, nobody that can cause any problems anyway, will look for him. You’re safe.”
Again silence. Stone continued: ”perhaps the show should have been PG-rated. Perhaps I went a little too Jihad on the kid, but I hope you can understand that I was merely helping her. It was the only way. It would have taken too long. You’re already in a fragile state. Who knows what could happen if they keep messing your head for another two weeks. It’s in your genes pall. You’re a smart guy, but like you’re mother, your prone to some extreme neuroticism.”
Still no word. Stone felt like punching him, ”I couldn’t do this without something from you Harry. I don’t need your money, but I wanted something. I wanted your innocence and you paid your debt. In time you will thank me. Don’t get any crazy ideas about reporting this, they won’t listen to you, you know that.”
Harry kept scrolling through pictures, he came across one with him and Sheryl in Amsterdam. Stone sighed, didn’t know what to say.
”Well, I’m gonna be away for a while. They really need me. I’ve been here longer than I was supposed to anyway. I’m not sure when I see you again. I will leave a number you can if they keep bothering you. Just say that you are a friend of me. These guys are good, the best. I will leave you some stuff that will keep you from sleep or will knock you down in a good sleep, whatever you prefer tonight. The next time we will see each other, everything will be back to normal” Stone patted Harry on the shoulder, ”don’t you worry about that.”
Stone headed out the door when he finally heard Harry’s voice: ”If you ever come here again Stone. I will kill you,” Stone turned around, faced Harry who was staring back at him, ”I don’t care what happens to me. But if you ever come to my house again I will fucking kill you.”
Stone looked into his eyes, he couldn’t be sure if he could do it or not.
”You’re show is on tomorrow right? I will be listening don’t you worry. I never miss a show.” Stone blinked and left the room.

In his dreams, he was in the playground again. Crispin was sitting on a swing, wearing a red raincoat. When he saw Harry walking toward him, he quickly jumped off.
”I’m not supposed to talk to you.”
”Why not?”
”They say you won’t listen anyway,” Crispin shivered in the cold rain.
”I’m listening now.”
”Nobody listens. Everybody’s always in their own world. You were supposed to be better than that.”
”I’m trying…”
”It doesn’t matter. You can’t do it. Maybe you never will.”
”You don’t believe in me.”
”You don’t believe in yourself.”
Harry was wiping his wet face. The rain just kept pouring. There was an explosion in thesky. A lighting bolt.
”Is it my fault? Is the death of the kid my fault?”
”Why do you ask me? You won’t listen anyway. You made up my mind.”
”Just tell me.”
”You never forgive yourself, that’s your problem. You keep putting it all on you. You’re just like your mother…”
”Is she here? Can I talk to her?”
”I told you, you won’t listen anyway. I have to go before I get into trouble.”
”Please, I’m all alone out there. I don’t want to go back.”
”We are all waiting. We will always be waiting for you. But we can’t push it too far. The work is up to you…”
Crispin turned to and ran away, Harry was about to run after him, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He had a feeling who it was and he began to tremble.  When he turned around to see if it was him, he woke up.

Znalezione obrazy dla zapytania david lynch painting

***

Our Disease 9

Mr. Anonymous

Like every noted social-commentator, Harry would receive hundreds of e-mails everyday from loyal listeners, some praising him for preaching reality in such a distorted world, others demonising, even threatening him for poisoning the minds of others.
In the beginning, Harry would spend days replying to them but in the past few years, Harry would only peruse them and in the occasion he would find a thoughtful e-mail, he would reply in the best way he could.
In some cases, it was Harry’s fans that bothered him the most. Many of them misconstruing his words. His criticisms about Islam would be perceived as endorsements for the current president, who had the tendency to placidly endorse white-supremacists, or at the very least, would not go all the way to condemning them. His critique on the government has often been seen as endorsing anarchy or a Randian style government, much like it is now, where the elites are playing the free-market to become unimaginably powerful. Harry’s mission was to bring some much needed nuance in society, to show the people that both sides, all sides, had their miscreants and misguided viewpoints. Instead, being harsh on side, on an issue that seemed so obvious, would be perceived as being for the other side and the side that’s being critiqued would see him as a traitor. It never seemed to the end. You had to choose a side or else you didn’t belong anywhere.
Harry perused his e-mails (he had two e-mails, one private and one public, but somehow, most of his e-mails managed to get into his private e-mail). These were some of the things he read (more than often times they included monstrous spelling errors):
You are the last patriot of America
Lying snowflake piece of shit!
You bring much needed sanity into an absurd America…
I know you are working for the deep state….
It’s hard to be a sane American and you give me much needed solace…
I totally agree with you that we need to get rid of Muslim scum!
I’ve heard you are single…
The president is just trying to save our souls, I’m glad you see this…
Harry was perusing them while gulping from a flash containing some potent liqueur, he wasn’t sure what, but it came from Stone, so it was probably something exotic and something that would, hopefully, get him drunk very fast.
Eventually he came across a cryptic e-mail from an Mr. Anonymous. There was no subject title. It just had this sentence:
YOU’VE SLEPT LONG ENOUGH.
Harry didn’t know what to make of it and frankly he didn’t care. He replied to the e-mail:
whatever.

He got up from his chair, turned around in his living-room, where Stone lying back in Harry’s smoking a joint, was having a lengthy conversation with Dale who was sitting on a chair across from it.
”…I don’t need people to hear my music man,” said Dale, ”I just want to play it. When people listen to it, they will want a piece of it. It will change and I like it the way it is. Art is always focused on what other people think of it. But what about the artist himself man? Why doesn’t the artist matter most?”
”Because art like anything else in this world, is nothing more than a commercial commodity,” said Stone handing Dale the joint, ”it is distinguished by the fact that it doesn’t serve any practical purpose, nobody really needs music or letters or images. But we create them because they give meaning to our lives, or better yet, it makes us feel special. That’s all that art is. Art is a business that gives people mental hand-jobs.”
”Yeah I don’t believe that man. The music saved my life. If I didn’t create music I don’t think I would be able to stand myself.”
”You just proved my point there Dale. You create music because it makes you feel better. Cos it makes you feel more special. You know what also could make you feel more special? Having lots and lots of money.”
”Don’t listen to him Dale,” said Harry, sitting next to Stone on the couch, ”this man is the devil himself.”
”I’m not the devil, I’m just a symbol of human nature,” grinned Stone, ”So why don’t you let other people hear your music? Why don’t you me hear your music? I know some people Dale. I know the right people. If they see potential in your music, they can make you very rich. You won’t be as rich as the musicians were in the good old days, the Internet stole that away, but there are ways to tap into the market correctly.”
”You never ever heard my music, what makes you think you will like it?”
”It’s the feeling I have with you. I think you are special. I think you are the real deal. So many people think they can make music or art, but most of them don’t. You’ve given a great deal to the music, I can see that. That’s why your music will be something special. I can feel it.”
Dale smiled, thought for a while and handed him the joint, ”thanks for your confidence in me. But I prefer to keep my music to myself.”
Stone nodded and took a big drag and handed it to Harry, ”I can respect that. You don’t want to sell-out, even though I don’t really believe there’s such a thing. Maybe it’s better that way. You don’t wanna know how many losers become famous and then regret it afterwards. Perhaps the integrity of the music is best served for your ears only.”
Harry took a big drag, laid back on his couch and closed his eyes. There was a vision of Sheryl, his ex-wife. Her face against naked chest, her mouth agape in an orgasm. There was a smile on Harry’s face. Then came the vision of her hiding in the corner as he was destroying the living room, punching holes in the wall, demanding her to love him.
”You going to pass that joint frendo?” The voice of Stone bursts through his vision. Harry opened his eyes. ”I’m sorry,” and passed the joint to Stone.

That night, the three of them were each lying on a separate garden chair, looking into the starry night. Dale had already fallen asleep, with headphones attached to his hear in which his own music crescendoed him into a peaceful slumber. Harry was on the verge of falling asleep when Stone suddenly asked about his mother:
”You ever miss your mother Harry?”
The memory of his mother, caressing his forehead.
”I don’t want to talk about my mother.”
Stone ignored him, ”She was a stone-cold bad-ass. All my peers feared facing her. She was an idealist like you, but she was tough. She would not back down for nobody. She was a force of fucking nature. If more like her were around…”
The memory of a young twenty-eight year visiting his mother’s place, calling out his mother’s name. Hearing sounds upstairs….
”…the world would be a better place. People like me wouldn’t win so much…”
Harry entering his mother’s living-room, seeing his mother siting naked on her bed, shivering. Her skin red as if it was scraping it clean. She looked at Harry, her eyes moist with tears. ”I’m sorry, it’s happening again…” she said.
The memory made Harry get up from his chair, turning around, heading back into his house. ”We have to face our memories Harry!” Called Stone after him, ”We can’t reject them when they visit us! We have to be honest about their nature or they will always come back!”
The memories of Harry’s mother came flooding into his mind:
I’m sorry mom, I don’t know how I can help you. I’m sorry, I just don’t know how I can help you…

Before Harry went to bed, he checked his e-mail again. From Mr. Anonymous: I’M SORRY, IT’S HAPPENING AGAIN.

Znalezione obrazy dla zapytania painting lost highway lynch
Artwork by Massimo Carnivale

***

Our Disease 8

Goodnight 

”It won’t be long before they find a way inside our heads,” started Harry in a special podcast broadcast after a massive school-shooting took place in Pennsylvania the previous day, ”and you might be thinking that they have already infested our heads, that our reality has already been shaped by them. But I’m talking about the next step. I’m talking about invasive commercials in our dreams. I’m talking about forbidden thoughts being suppressed by hostile memes. I’m talking about a world where there is no safe place to go. Where every thought is monitored. Where you would walk the streets and if you happen to think something outside the agenda of our current administration, the mind-scanner on the streets would raise alarm, a voice would call out your name: ‘seize such creative thoughts right now! Continue the appropriate means of thought or you will be arrested and reprogrammed…”
In the sound-stage Stone was on the phone to someone important, making notes. Dale, his sound-assistant, was smoking a joint, listening intently.
”…Every new election, the newest president would endorse more creative thoughts. One would ban these thoughts, the other would ban other thoughts. The newest Ap would warn us whenever we are getting close to forbidden thought. We would teach our children to conform to the appropriate perception of reality. Our TV-shows would change. None of that edgy stuff anymore. Nothing that would endorse forbidden thought. Maybe the world will be less violent this way…”
The regular despondency of Harry was getting to him, the violent protest a few days ago, the school-shooting yesterday and there was this creeping feeling that something bad was going to happen. ”The solution to the constant epidemic of violence is the loss of our freedom. The suppression of our humanity, is the only way to keep our world safe. It’s not the world I would want to live in, but you have to wonder if all this freedom is doing us any good.”
Harry pulled a deep drag, moved in to the final thought, ”all we want is to be safe. Most of us aren’t revolutionaries or artists anyway. We just want to be left alone and do our own thing. Make some money. Go on vacations. Feed our children. They can do what they want. Just leave us alone. Whatever grand scheme the intellectuals will think of next, we will end like we always do. On a loop, creating hell out of another paradise. The human animal will reject a rational world. We are seduced by the madness because it gives us more comfortable answers. After everything we know, so many people still believe in ghosts or Gods, after all this time, the most failed political policies are still being fought over as if they are going to save us. I’m frankly tired. So fucking tired. Fifteen kids dead. It was just some guy nobody paid attention to. He wasn’t a some lonely geek, some inconspicuous sociopath. And I know what you are thinking. The madness was already there, stewing and getting stronger. And you’re probably right. But even so. We have all the means to communicate with one and other, to express ourselves. Why didn’t he find a way to express it before it went to such a dark place.”
A deep drag, ”maybe that’s a pointless question. The question we all asked after such a news. But all I hear from the people who knew him is: ‘nobody saw it coming.’ Besides his final cryptic message on Youtube the night before…”
The Bug is in my brain….
”it’s like mental illness sprung on his mind just like that, a thirty-three year old healthy, sane man, suddenly without verging on a psychopathic breakdown… ”
The bug is telling me things. I’m not supposed to listen to it.
”…talking about the bug in his head, how it keeps coming back to the places where he’s supposed to be safe…”
It seems to go on forever.

”…and that’s what will happen to us all. Our safest place, our mind, will be hijacked. More men like him will lose their minds…”
You think there’s an escape but there is none.

”…and it will be a bloodbath. It will be one pointless bloodbath after another. They will talk of alienation, the loss of community. But we have all the means to be closer to each other than we were ever before. We are closer to an era where we can enter each other’s mind. But in the end, despite being able to come so close, we just can’t do it…
Reality is the prison.
”We prefer to dream…”
A pause. Harry took a deep drag and wished them goodnight.

Znalezione obrazy dla zapytania painting loneliness
Art by Edward Hopper

***