Aware

The point of life is nothing. And therein lies the rub. How could something this fascinating and elaborate be for nothing? Maybe we sentients are woefully lacking in intelligence to find this out yet. I am sure many of us by now would have wished Einstein were still alive today. I know I am. This little girl I know would have for sure loved to have Einstein by her side, asking a million questions about this life. And he might have answered a good number of them, smiling puffs out of his pipe.

The lack of consequences is what driving this planet to the brink. If a smoker gets his cancer in months instead of years later, he will stop smoking and combusting the earth at the same time. If at all a rich guy is caught gaming the system and bombing the country in months instead of waiting for him to build his rocket and settles on Mars with his grandchildren kind of like Interstellar shit, the Amazon might still be recycling carbon like it was just decades before. No. The lack of immediate consequences has assholes of the world unite and take a collective shit on humanity is what killed the earth. This is not hyperbole. We are already doomed. And we hold the rich of this world accountable. Technology is for the advancement of humanity. Not for the stock ticker to be horny always. And we are never uniting to save ourselves for we have been ingrained that ‘unity’ is a bad word. With word origins on the badlands of the ‘Russians’ or ‘commies’. We might as well burn the house ourselves. Now I regret having babies. Too late. I am gonna be stuck like a pig when my daughter asks the question.

Jinxed Jar

The jar had been standing on the table for almost a decade. For years no one had dared move or dust the jar for fear of wrath from him or worse, her. She would blast anyone as much as dared to stare at the jar a bit too long. ‘Want some of it?’, she would bark, daring the stupid starer to reply in the affirmative. But all of them slouched back to whatever they were doing in that cursed home. That year, I came home. And for reasons unknown yet, she loved me. I was her cherub. The pizza in the oven. And the whole household got jealous of that fact. 

‘You can stop digging Ma’, I said annoyed at her wheezing and feebly flinging at the hole she had been at for almost an hour. ‘But you have to go a lot deeper if it’s for you. We are planning on getting you standing in the end. You would love the vibes, they say', I continued, goading her to look up and spite me. The old one looked up, a tired smile fluttering under her nose. ‘I wouldn’t care if you lowered me on my head’, grandma croaked hoarsely. Her postnasal throat infection making it impossible to understand her. 

Indebted

Is it possible to live without debts? I mean, live life without a single moolah of debt to others. I am not talking about the uber-rich. They create money, not necessary for them to ask for money other than to get tons of loans from people’s money and ‘risk’ it and eat it. I am talking about the remaining 99%. Those whom we call the human species. I guess not. For there are too many products and marketing executives bent on making you horny for the next issue of the newest mobile. Not to mention the majority of people who have to survive some form of debt to feed themselves. How different would we be if we didn’t have the function of powering ourselves with calories? Maybe, we would have not destroyed this earth this much. Or, the scene could be entirely different if we out of boredom nuked our asses and called it a day. Both are possible I guess.

Snatches of life…

Last night’s sleep wasn’t good. Just like the last decade. He made futile attempts to settle his body in some painless nirvana pose that might wake him up without the neck pain. But as always he woke up with a numbing pain in his neck and shoulders. A few years back he would have worried about it, but now he just takes it as his age. He cricks his neck left and right and starts the day.

The desk near his bed is like a scrambled egg. Everything placed or rather dropped where some space could be eyed. It’s an assortment of things on his desk like the teacup fighting for some space with the taurine. He doesn’t care anymore. He has mortal things on his mind than worry about the deranged table.

Last nights food packet lies still untouched. He must have passed out before he could remember to get hungry and gorge it down. Drinking does that to him these days. He passes out before he would remember to enjoy his drunken evening. Never drinking again, he whispers the silent whisper of drunkards everywhere. Drunkards have no nation. There is no nation, to be honest. There is only ‘drunk nation’. The democratic, united, sovereign, great, brave, assholic, idiotic, republic of drunkistan. Nothing else. This world is increasingly hungover and we have no idea how to receive the aliens or prepare for ‘judgement’ day in the morning. This Titanic dumbfuckery will have no survivors.

Yet, he collects himself, he might as well do his day and have a beer in the evening. Alone. The only way for a little self-respect and sanity. Alone.