This Is Our Cage


"Courage" in "Our Cage"

I'm going to try to take a few negative thoughts, mix them in with some positive thoughts, add a dash of reality, and hopefully come up with something good. The odds of success are low; probably in the single digit percentile. Wonderful. It's not you who needs this. It's not you fighting the demons of pain, and existence-futility every minute of every hour. That would be me.

I just lost 4 good paragraphs when my computer froze up. Tell me again why I should care about anything.

This is our cage, and this is the EXACT cage that they wanted us to be in. This cage comes complete with the weather-conditioning chem-trails, poisonous water vapors, weapons-grade complications, and processed food viruses that make being a human fun. This is our cage. Wait. So; our cage was meant to be manipulated by the power-hungry wizards? Apparently so. And we love our cage; you can tell by all the different ways we strive to maintain it. That's sarcasm.

People ask me; 'So what have you done lately?'. As if I could, should, or even would stay focused long enough to learn something new. Javascript? Paint Shop Pro 9? Garage band? Computer stuff; no I don't think so--I have a smart girlfriend for all of that crap. The harmonica has a chance to be learned, maybe, because I can just lay there in bed and moan through it. Lie? Okay; 'lie there in bed and moan through it'. What have I done lately? I got out of bed yesterday, and then...wait for it...I got out of bed again today. (That was Saturday 2-10-07, Then on Sunday 2-11-07, my back was really hurting bad; the worst in a couple of years. I was crying before getting up, and Static Girl was home; she was probably upset that she didn't get her big Sunday alone--normally I work on Sunday, but today I did not. Too bad for her. On THIS Sunday, I did decide to go back to bed. I slept for close to 14 hours total. "Work" just ain't that freaking important to me. In fact, "work" can blow me. My back still hurts--but not as much. And if I HAD left the apartment today, I would have killed somebody; so again, to you morons I say: You're Welcome.) Other people want to know where Static Girl and I have visited, 'So where have you gone?'; like Crater Lake, Seaside, the Vortex--what have we seen? Nothing; that's what we've seen. If I can muster the motivation to suggest that we go do something, then she thankfully shoots it down at mention. Static Girl has her own pain and frustrations; I respect them and do not delve. We will go see the Vortex someday; just not today.

I was just sitting here again, back pain Sunday 2-11-07, and somehow my original paragraph below this one got erased. (starts with "My FCP...") But it's okay; the original paragraph was far too whiney. All of you people who constantly ask these stupid questions about 'What have you done lately?' and 'Where have you gone lately?' simply don't understand that people who LIVE in pain (that's us) do not have the same ambitions for trivial sightseeing and extra effort beyond standard existence. What did I do today? I did as little as freaking possible to maintain the minimalistic balance that I am doomed to enjoy. Now roll that up in a Hallmark card and smoke it, mama dog.

My FCP (bless her) is a person who is happy to be alive. Maybe I used to be like that, too. Her natural default setting is one of joy and grace. I argue with her about this default setting. My default setting begins before I get out of bed; I determine just how much lower back pain I'm starting with today. Sometimes the first few minutes of my day are "invested" in getting TO the shower. And then it might take all of the hot water in the pipes to get to a point where I feel like I might make it through a day. Maybe. Sometimes I stand in the shower, hobbled over, holding myself up with outstretched arms against the walls, crying, and I seriously wonder; 'Is this it? This is life? What is so great about this?' In retrospect, the bigger question is 'How have I not snapped yet?' But now I'm branching again.

Courage in the cage, dude, this is supposed to be about the cage; you just did 3 paragraphs on back pain. For somebody who supposedly is not looking for sympathy, you certainly appear to be aiming for some. Yes. Sorry. I hadn't missed a day of work in 5 months, and it seemed relevant.

Planet Earth; the cage. 'Is this it?' We live our lives as humans, with some distractional employment, and hope for 2 days off per week. This is life? Boy I sure am glad I went to college for this. I can't be the ONLY person who sees this crap for the scam that it is. Maybe THAT'S why so many people run around breeding out kids and racking up debt. No; those people are too stupid to be vengeful. Wait a second--that's it! Life IS a scam; we are just here--in a cage. Personal responsibility matters not (apologies to my wonderful, vegan, animal-loving girlfriend); you can choose to be responsible, but it will not change the cage. Courage in our cage. Ha. This is a "prison planet", just like the conspiracy freaks say it is.

This has gone very negative, and that was not my point here. I complain, often, about not having any pain pills. But if I had access to pills, then I might eat them all day long (been there, done that). Seriously; for at least 5 days a week I would rather have the pain than be numb to life; and I prove that everyday by continuing to live, even 25 years after dying in a car wreck. My accomplishments are not to be judged on the same criteria as the common idiot. My ambitions are low; yes. Why? Possibly because I think things through more than most people, and I don't see a good "effort:results" ratio. I don't know.

Some new sales stuff from work said something about how 'The Greeks didn't write eulogies; they merely inquired if the person lived with passion.' This bunk cracks me up. I have lived with passion; want to know what it got me? Some really bad skateboard wrecks, and some really worse bar fights; passion is to be relegated in moderation. Was/am I a passionate poet? A passionate pinball player? Sure. Try being a passionate DJ in corporate radio; ha. That could be a whole commentary right there. Later on I will make it so, Number 1.

Be passionate about your cage; huh? Oh; I must've been shooting for the bitterly obvious contradiction principle of existence there. You know the ones; like how school teaches you nothing about the real world. And then how your dreams get crushed by reality. Your passion gets consumed by unforseen and unintended details; you have to dodge bullets constantly, and then somewhat responsible people (like me) have to spend half the workday (or your whole life) cleaning up other people's mistakes. But, by all means, keep reading those motivation books. Hey; I read motivation books. Be passionate about your cage. Ah yes; the grand irony: if nothing matters, then why are we here? Fork if I know. This is some good stuff today; too bad it'll all get erased accidentally. Ha. Fork me. "I type to keep from cutting myself deeper; but I still dream of the knife." That's good; wow, did we write that? Forkin' A. Look at me--being all passionate and stuff. You just wish you had talent like this that you could waste. Stop teasing me; stop tasing me. Make me laugh; make me cry. If I laugh and cry everyday, then is that passion? Sure. I am possibly the most passionate person you've ever known of.

Do not feel sorry for me, do not praise me, and do not judge me by any standards you already know. I can kill myself anytime I want to. And I will; just not today. But I want this commentary to end on a happy note. Yeah; go fork yourself! Not exactly. But; I am happy. Sure I am. Glad to be here, sitting in a chair, almost kinda upright, and listening to my new double Foo Fighters CD. 'It's 2 am; the fear is gone.' Soon I will go back to bed, and let's all hope that I feel well enough to go to work tomorrow. But if I don't, then I'll be back here; complaining, and losing paragraphs.

I am happy, and life is full of meaning. Sure it is. Quit giggling, or I will eat you.

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