1.18.2009

A Monologue On Authorship, Motivation, Persuasion And The Meaning Of Life

Do we all need a battle? Or should I state it the way I originally had thought, “we all need a battle.” First thought, best thought, but my inner skeptic won’t allow such blanket statements as they assuredly are as false for any individual as they are universal as singular statements. But alas this scantly qualified idea now offers itself up to evaluation as being the stepping off point for this, my first official diatribe. Some may call it a lecture or a speech but I prefer diatribe so as not to conceal the single minded, selfishness even downright slothenly greed that is involved in such a spectacle as you see before you. A deserved description because of the amount of effort tendered to contrive and prepare for such a moment as I now successfully bring to fruition as well as the dialectical conscious/subconscious drive that kept it going as well as the final outcome the very sinister outcome.

If you don’t all know what I’m talking about let me be more plain. It is this position, the role I’m gladly playing and the suspension of disbelief that happens in the most poorly written and performed plays. IT is this, authority I speak of. The moment the pen clicks forth, out steps the shiny ball of flowing truth and as I roll this device across the page it mystically grants me powers beyond those of mortal men and women. Oh yes Virginia the pen is mightier than the sword. The truth shadowed by the truism is that it is rarely as honest a power. For the authority of the sword requires that its user affirm their own inevitability in risking ones life, thus skillful execution is the rule of the day. Hence the performance of such battle is one of reverence and respect, honesty. In battle authority is attributed to the one who has spilt the most blood. The pen though in many ways a close analog is certainly distinct in that one scarcely risks their existence, with the act of authorship, thus facing ones own mortality but rather inversely reinforces ones own egoistic drive for historical prominence as we wish to make our mark on the world. The metaphorical pen wields more power than the metaphorical sword but does it do it with any honor? There is only deceit and this is not to say we should all be killing each other because peace agreements are contrivances of authority that are deceitful and so on and such nonsense, but to say that there is relative honesty, truth yes even honor in a life and death battle as opposed to the hidden battles waged by the contrivances of the authoritative everywhere. And to be clear on this it is this authority that creates almost all the mass suffering and war that we all desperately protest. War and suffering are merely the hideous outcomes of already fought and won battles that happen behind the scenes yet right in front of us. And no the point is not to lament that we are a race of defrauded and exploited, ravaged by authority taken and authority granted but merely to point out that we are gladly unaware of this. The authority granted by my current position though most would dispute it is naturally granted to others, an issue of persona, I concede is at the forefront as grantor of power but what is a personage but a character in a performance. “all the world is a stage and we are but actors in upon it” The idea we want to create in the minds of others the very power we want to wield is dealt in blows of contrivancy and of utmost contrivancy is the projection of our characters the roles we take on to get what we want. We project them upon others and of course as the actor of all these various roles we contrive for ourselves the image of a performer.

What does all this with authority have to do with that questionable stepping off point, we all need a battle? Patience, patience your mind may be supple and like clay ready for the molding or hard and like a chunk of coal waiting in the dark to be set afire but the anxious may miss the truth that lies beneath. So for the moment a breather of sorts a meaningless waste of time to clear all that hot energy ready to shape or set afire, relaxing it just enough to let in the critical light.

A pizza delivery man, set forth on a mission of utmost importance speeds up to the first building on his list. He stops, takes a drink of water and puts on his, shades. Walking up to the door of the building with his large, red pizza box insulator he enters, finds the correct address and rings the apartment. In a moment a man comes down, they exchange food for money and just as they were about to part ways the delivery man bluntly asks of his pizza recipient “don’t you hate this boring meaningless existence?” and although there was already one glued to the top of the pizza box he hands him an extra coupon sheet. The man looks at him with an anxious, quizzical gaze, thanks him for the pizza and leaves to go eat, and maybe watch the rest of survivor. Someone is almost giddy when handed their delightfully delicious pizza all they can think about is stuffing themselves, and here comes this almost morbid denial of not only that little joy but it all. It’s the same with all the rest of his stops. He delivers the pizza to young, old, men, women, joyful, depressed, they laugh at him as if it is a joke then see he is serious, they grimace, sometimes they think for a moment and berate him and rarely if ever respond with anything but a closer to such an awkward moment. But as rude and strange as it was there were people, many average everyday people that would hear about this and call Corner Pizza in hopes that they may get the mysterious delivery guy but it was the “extra coupons” that were actually the clincher of the whole deal, the coupons had the same deals on them but they also had one other thing, a number in the corner a special number that always changed. And if you were to call the number…? Well you would get an anonymous answering service and you could leave a message, for whom you don’t know, maybe the pizza guy, maybe god, who knows but there it was. And did they leave messages? If they did it was a test of initiation and a few were called back with a riddle to solve, solve the riddle and you get a free pizza, the pizza isn’t the motivation however it’s the chase, the mysterious game. Surely there is something else. The delivery guy gives you a new message and a new number asks you a question and you move to the next level something like that? Well there is nothing else just that, just enough to whet the appetite for the game to continue but it certainly doesn’t, it is just a meaningless waste of time, except for the few who get a free pizza. And if there were anything to it, I would lie to you about that anyway.

Now back to that matter of the battle we all need. It is a place in the mind of every person on earth that wonders cynically “is this it? Is this all there is to life?” what a rip off it is to them, to us. Isn’t it? You realize there is no God there probably are no real ghosts or monsters, aliens or magic. No real deep dark secrets, it’s all the stuff of boring or otherwise tragic lives; and the ones we are so interested in, famous people, let’s face it that’s just our projection of a fairytale. They all have something much less than the perfect lives we all dream of. So this thing a great battle, something to die for, Nelson Mandela had it, Brave Heart had it, Jesus had it, and Ripley had it in Aliens. We need something to awaken that primordial vigor that gets totally dulled in our everyday lives. But do we really need such a thing?

To be a hero that is it, that is the ultimate. It’s the Walter Middy syndrome and I believe it affects every one of us disaffected disconnected people of our blind consumerism driven, work centered around the paycheck existence. I say yes,whole heartedly,we do need a real battle to fight, if life is worth dieing for then its worth living for. We have to have such a thing to validate the meaning and the dignity we are all together denied of in this age of internet and delivery pizza and hyper real special effects. I say take up the cause and take up arms with your fellow freedom fighters. But remember this, one mans freedom fighter is another mans terrorist, and surely all that stands against you will try to place you in the side of evil and call for your demise. If you dare take up the call and stand against them surely you will face the onslaught of the hordes of goliath-like infantry and god-like authorities and invisible forces to tear you down. I warn you now; it is the noblest of causes but the most staggering of odds the most trying of quests. But take up the call and you and your fellow warriors will see the day when truth triumphs over lies and good smashes the throne of evil. This will be the moment when long into the future men will still say “This was our finest hour!” Go forth now and remember that a dream is nothing if it is not acted upon and that your dream can change the world forever.

1 comment:

7SON said...

Deep, heavy stuff my friend.....the truth that lies beneath the facade!