Boring life

Wake up and dance. Just like that. Wake up, and dance. To exist. To be a part of the act. To be an actor. What is your role? Coz’ surely you have a role, doesn’t everyone? It might be that nobody is an actor, and everyone’s an agent of Free Will, but is that not an act in itself? How so? To have acted on Free Will is to have acted on some will. Some will seems to suggest that it was someone’s will and if it was someone’s will then it was driven by someone’s needs, and if it was driven by needs then it was based on a story, a plot, an act. 

Wake up and dance, you might die tomorrow. Or the day after. Why not consider this a possibility? Coz’ surely you are going to die someday, aren’t you? Need not all be sadness and death in your mind either. And death need not be the topic of such gloom and darkness. A box has been drawn around you, and when you die, another bigger box gets drawn and you go deeper and deeper. Memories of all your past generations, even those that first waded out of the water, passed down from one life to the next. There is nothing random and you cannot be a mere fluke. 

This is your plot, your act, your time to play it out. There’s no race, surely, no need to compete with others. All you have to do is play your part. Sleep if you want. Wake up if you want. Play if you want or read if you want. You just have to do you, there is no script out there that is better suited for you. The simplest, the most elegant of solutions is Nature’s delight. A leaf’s green, water’s blue, an old man’s stories, everything has its natural flow, a way of doing things, a way of happening, a script to stick to. 

What is it to break the script? You are only going to conform to another script. To break that next is to conform to another, more crooked script. No no. Go grab a beer. Grab a novel in the other. Go outside, feel the air, the smell, that something called life. Enjoy your life in the poem it deserves, a song that it is, needs to be played, performed, and played again. 

Millennials and Gen-Z, I ruefully suppose, have a much tougher battle to face and that is the battle of self-identity. We are being openly targeted and made to involuntarily participate in social medial experiments on the mind. This is nice, that is not, a bunch of rules plopped from clouds above us like a load of shit. 

Nobody’s life is boring, not mine, not yours, nobody’s. Everyone’s a wild animal, although we only meet animals hidden away under masks of domestication, we can be nothing else but a truly wild animal, a predator in the pyramid or a parasite in the system, wild, wild is the way of things. Smile, I guess that is all that I am trying to say. Smile that you are alive, and breathing, and looking around, and still pooping.