A Shout-out To The Cosmic Void

Hello, Void. I'd say it's been a long, long time, but I'd be lying, wouldn't I? Ah, don't worry about the volume... I won't be shouting out into you this time... Just talking. Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3. Hello, there! General Kenobi? Not quite. Tell me, tell me, oh mighty abyss, is a difference that makes no difference a difference at all? And how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? (I would say Tree Fiddy).... But my main message whether or not anybody's listening is (oh and get ready Freddy for this) is... Is.... that I'm still here.. So, so, so, hello. Thank you and goodnight. But it's no longer night, is it? No, no, no, time to go again. Isn't it lovely? Wake, eat, drink, breathe, work, sleep and drive. Cosmic Wie, this is your life. Sometimes we're so focused on keeping the wolf away from the door that we never get a chance to go out that door and actually live. The exception is when there's nothing out there, nothing at all... Aside from that wolf.. And so for some of us, it's all about keeping the wolf away from the door and spending as little time in reality as we can. Reality sucks. And really my heart just hasn't been into it. Not for a very long time. Why should it be? Tell, me, tell me, just what is the endgame? What am I supposed to be working towards? Any ideas? Go figure, go fish. I've got nothing. And if I can't guess, nobody else can either. Remember that Loony Tunes episode where Bugs Bunny was reading a book about the Tasmanian Devil, particularly the long list of the poor creatures that Taz eats, when suddenly at the end of the paragraph, you here Taz say from behind, "And rabbits." Bugs says, "It didn't say rabbits" Then Taz snatches the book and writes in the prettiest cursive at the end of the paragraph, "....and rabbits" I suppose when you must go by the book, it's good to have the book go by you. Friends, friends, What is the point of even going online anymore? There used to be a lot of cool places to go. Now, it's almost nowhere... Maybe for Doom levels, occasionally levels for my other old games. There used to be some wonderful fan-fiction out there. Now all my favorites are either finished or abandoned. They used to be a wonderful escape. Now, they're gone. There used to be these cute visual novels, small projects of hobbyists... They were a nice escape, too. There used to be fan pages for all manner of things, enthusiastically built by their owners.... Browsing them was an adventure that passed many an hour for me. Gone, gone, gone. Maybe the internet archive saved a few. Maybe I saved a few others. But, otherwise, it's all lost to time and link rot. Gone. Aside from a few tried and true game level sites, It's basically all 'news' and social media. And both have a way of depressing me, of bringing me, down, down, down. Somewhere along the way of this information highway, something had gone very wrong. It may get down to banking and checking email for me. I won't need high speed for that. Did someone say streaming? Look, pal, I am from the old school. I don't stream I download. I am not a believer in being wired into the grid every second of every day. In fact, with dial up, you only logged in for browsing and checking email. Then you logged off and still used your computer. And don't even get me started on these smartphones. They're nifty devices but I don't want every aspect of my life low jacked into them. Not everything should require having a phone up your butt. As I said, it has somehow all gone wrong. I am not one for change. My old denim jacket, my companion of many years appears to have reached its end. It's already shaggy, frayed, and coming apart at the seams. And now, it ripped when I put it on this morning, just under the collar. Yes it's raggedy, but it's so comfortable... And it's been with me far longer than my ex was. Loyal, too, I might add. I'm still going to make it last a few more weeks, but yeah... Note to self: I'll need to remember to buy a new one next winter. I am an advocate for neither devils nor the gods. When speaking of what I believe in and what I just can't believe in anymore, I do so with all due respect for those who are better than I in finding faith. In fact, I wish I could be among them. I honestly wish I could. They find comfort where I can not. They are certain that everything will be made right, that we shall meet again. I seriously doubt it. But I wouldn't belittle anyone for having that faith. In fact, I envy them. Envy is one of those seven deadly sins, right? Definitely not a dwarf, right? And I do have others that I envy. I envy lovers the most. They have a special place in togetherness. They don't come home merely to a place. They come home to each other. They come home to a loving embrace. They come home to be held, to be loved. Yes, I envy the lovers. This I must confess. It's a lonely life, very lonely. I guess I am also guilty of coveting. There is someone I wish were with me, someone who I wish would return my love. Someone I have known for a while, Someone whose very presence can brighten my darkest day. Could it only be my image of her, An Angel I have conjured in my head, a hallucination I have attached to a real human being? Am I looking through those fabled rose colored glasses? Could this just be a delusion? Is this limerence? Could it be I am in love with an idea, rather than this woman, this Angel, this beautiful, wonderful angel? I suppose I will never know. I only know these feelings are real, whether or not the image is. I love her. If this is coveting, then I guess I'm guilty. And there ya go. As the priest possessed by Demonic Adrian said, Let the sin begin! Funny, though. Sinning seems to be nowhere near as fun as one might think, no fun at all. I guess we don't call him the father of lies for nothing. If we human beings were truly logical creatures, then realizing something is impossible would automatically shut down any thoughts about it. It would be highly illogical to waste brain power by ruminating about the impossible, right? And that's why, ladies and gentlemen, I sometimes wish I were Vulcan.. (or a robot). Maybe there is a larger truth that I simply can't see. Maybe actually getting what I want would eventually hurt me worse than never coming close, and therefore the fates are protecting me. I have lived long enough to see that possibility. There have been gates so heavenly on the outside that one doesn't realize they lead to points south instead. I suppose Purgatory is better than Hell, right? Still. One has to wonder. Am I truly unworthy of love? Am I just so damn awful that I deserve to be lonely? I, myself, don't think I'm so bad. But that's hardly an unbiased point of view. I do make an effort to see myself from all angles, and make sure it is not I being the jerkwad. And yes, I know I can be difficult when I try (or don't try enough not to be). We all have our stressors and our moods. Funny though. There are some people that make all those bad feelings disappear just by walking into the room. I don't claim to always be in the right. I just make my best effort to be the best I can, and try to see myself through the eyes of others. I would hope that I am worthy of love. I would hope I would be worthy to be held. I would hope. I would hope. Moving along, I dreamed about my father again. Lately, he's the only one making the encore appearances in my dreams. Of course, my dream self forgot he's been gone for more than a year and a half. Waking up was difficult for some reason. I think the alarm had been going off for more than ten minutes when it finally roused me. I must have been in an extremely deep sleep. It was a total shock to the system, and I'm not sure I'm over it yet. The flashing red lights of an ambulance and the flashing blue of a cop helped wake me up some on my way to work. There must have been a wreck. Somebody is obviously having a worse day than I am. It doesn't appear I'm like Luther Mandrake here. I seem to be still alive. I'm pretty sure I wasn't the one. Though I'm sure I wouldn't have made that poor lady cry. (You would have to have seen that particular episode of 'Tales From The Dark Side' to know what I'm referring to) Suffice to say, he was already in Hell, but was given a test first before it was made permanent. I think if he were kind to that lady on the phone or to the man who referred to himself as The Watchman, they might have let him into Heaven. I would have passed that test. I could not see myself being cruel to that lady or that watchman, no matter how down and depressed, hopeless, or pissed off at the world I am. I still have empathy. But this was Mandrake's test, not mine. My test and my damnation would be for an entirely different set of sins. Sometimes, I feel my main punishment is still being alive in the first place, but I digress. I suppose it is quite normal to always wake up as yourself. After all, I have no memory whatsoever of ever being anyone else. Just a countless number of versions of myself, with the hope of each version being an improvement upon the last. (You know, the opposite of a Microsoft product). A thousand experiences, a few tough lessons, with just the right amount of regret (for spice), mix it all together and let simmer for a few decades. Then, be like that Cajun Chef that used to be on PBS and have a drink of wine. I'm not sure what's cookin', but it's gonna be awesome... I hope. Remember, folks, you can get away from a lot of things, a lot of people, but you can never get away from yourself. Of pause, rewind, or reset... Which would I prefer, if I could only have one? Well, pause would have been nice this morning. If reset resets absolutely everything, I can rule it out immediately. Why? Because I would find myself right here all over again. No good and no point. Same for rewind if I too revert to ignorance from what wisdom I have gained... Again, there's no point. Let's say I get to keep my knowledge and understanding. Now that changes the whole ballgame. Sooo... Reset to when exactly? Good question. The further back in time, the bigger the change... But damn... I was a weird enough kid as it was. Oh well... This is just fantasy... It's time to wake up and face the real world. Damn. I have spent my past weekend hibernating like a bear. The world is hard and cold. My bed is soft and warm. The howling winter wind outside has been relentless, and I.... And I had chosen sleep over reality. A good choice, really. It is a level of peace and freedom I have never otherwise known. It is an escape from everything and everyone, including myself. It may or may not be the trial version of a more permanent state. I won't know until I get there. But I have always wondered. Like I have said in my last rambling, I have spent a lot of time in self-doubt and self-reflection. Am I unworthy? If I am, then I couldn't bear being so. In that case, I would rather not be at all. I know this is a heavy thing to be starting out a new entry or a new month with. Shouldn't I be happy that January is finally over? I guess less sad would be more accurate. I feel unwanted, invisible, and unloved. I also feel powerless in ways people could never understand. I have confronted the boundaries of my fear on behalf of the people that I love. But I have sometimes let that fear stop me. And such moments linger as shame. Sometimes, I feel improperly made. Sometimes, I feel as though broken, deformed, and unfit for the role I have been given. And yes, unworthy, deserving of every bit of this emptiness, this hopelessness, this loneliness. Maybe this is a hell crafted perfectly for me. Specifications written by a god. The details in which the devil himself lives. Maybe there are reasons I can not step far enough outside of myself to see or understand that I deserve to be punished. And maybe there are reasons that I see all too clearly: things I can not repair. Things I no longer have the power to change, those personal demons who torture me. And I often join in with the punishing. The problem is that particular being who deserves it is not even here anymore. It is I who takes the lumps and the kicks instead. I beat myself up over things I would never say over things I would never do over someone I am absolutely not. It's not me. It's not me. Put me in any one of those situations, and you will see. It's not me. It's not me. And so I go, round and round, round and round. And the lonely always have a surplus of time to think. Act in haste, repent in leisure. We've got the rest of our natural lives and maybe beyond to regret, lament, and just feel terrible. And if we're not regretting our own transgressions, our own mistakes, then we're dwelling on those who hurt us, those who used and mistreated us, especially when we did our absolute best to do right by them, trusted them, and they stabbed us in the back. And if not, then we think about God, Fate, and death taking away the few people in this world that truly loved us.... And so this swirl begins to spiral, down, down, down to the abyss below where those who pray for death are cursed with life. Why? Because, when you live, you must live with all of this! Even when living without, in reality, we have no hope of changing for the better. Now, that is hell. I am broken. It was not just the world that broke me. It was the people I wrongly trusted.... It was the universe, fate, life, and death. Worse, it was me as well. I did this. It was me. I did damage, too. I have broken myself, too. I was in a panic. I wanted so badly to break free. But gravity won, inertia won... And there is no escape. Not in this place. Not at this time. Do you want to know a secret? Deep down, I still feel the same. I just understand now more than ever that there's absolutely nothing I can do. Is this surrender, or is this just a strategic retreat? I don't know. I only know there is but one escape. There was another dream that intertwined and intervened.... Of an angel, beautiful and pure, with a healing touch, yet a hand just out of reach. She could have been a phantom, an illusion conjured up by a lonely heart. I once knew where I was going and who I would be once I got there. Now, I am adrift. This gravity of a passing star has totally changed my course... And now, I have no clue where I am, much less where I am going, and far lesser who I am or where and when it all shall end. I can't help that I love you, Angel. These are the things I wish I could say, but could never say to you. I love you. It's no secret and it's nothing new. I have been trying to stifle these feelings for these three plus years that I've known you. And the problem is, the more I have learned about you, the dearer to my heart you have become. I know I am only hurting myself by this unrequited love. Not one bit of this can be blamed on you. You did nothing wrong. You were just wonderful, and you were just beautiful. You never deceived me. You never led me on. Seems I am perfectly capable of leading myself on instead. This is not you fault, my love. It's my own. And I wish I could make these feelings go away. I just don't know how. I love you. That, I can not help. All I can do is live in the harshness of silence because it's my fault, not yours. This is my due to pay, not yours. But yes... I love you. And no, it's not exactly a secret that I do. Moving along, moving along. Clean cup move down. My grandpa made it to 95. My father made it to 75. Though I know this is no guarantee that I will. I have heard stories of people my age being taken by heart attacks, strokes, and whatever... And since I do my best to avoid most dealings with the medical mafia, because all those tests do nothing but generate more bills, I couldn't tell you how my heart or vessels or whatever are doing. To tell you the truth, if something bad happens, I'd rather whatever it is would finish the job instead of paralyzing or vegitizing me. To me that would be a fate far worse than a clean death. It would also generate a lot less bills for my poor kids to pay. So, Mr Stroke, Mr Heart Attack, either leave me completely alone and healthy, or end me completely. Give me none of these half assed bill generating disabilities. Just get it over with. Thank you. I live in The United States, where staying out of hospitals is the only way to stay out of the poor house. That's how it is when those greedy bastards will charge you more than a lifetime's wages just to prolong your life a bit. I would rather die than see my work, my parent's hard work, and my grandpa's hard work squandered by a robber with a medical degree. My children deserve the fruits of my labor far more than Doctor Rob Stealurmonie ever will. I'll see you in hell, instead. No necessity of life should ever cost more than what an honest wage could reasonably pay. Clean cup, move down. As I once said, I do not fear death itself. What I do fear is a prolonged death, a scary death, or a painful death. Death itself does not scare me. I still owe that son of a bitch a knuckle sandwich. And I intend to go down swinging. This one's for my friend. This one's for my sister. This one's for my mother. And this one's for my father. I shall avenge them. I shall also avenge what losing them did to me. When you bring it, pal, you better come correct.