Monday, March 13, 2006

 

the purpose

What am I? A bunch of organs pinned to a stick? An overactive pea poised atop a ladder? A contradictory smorgasbord of ideas, concepts, beliefs, opinions, desires and dreams? Conditioned by family, society and the human race.

I can safely say that at this point of time the only subject, topic, idea I can hold forth on and presume to understand is myself, the Me in me. Not my child, not my man, not my parents, not my siblings, not my extended family, not my city, not my country, not the world I live in. All these are incidental to the Me, clinical and curt though it may sound. Peel away all the noise, and theres just this naked Me. Apolitical, asexual, asocial...

I come and go...maybe I take on different guises, maybe I just float in the ether, disembodied. I go through the motions, the acts, the roles, the given permutation-combinations that the unseen arranges before me. Am I, essentially, at the very basic level, just a carbon-based organism, no better than the bare trees, the pebbles I so often stop to admire?

When the end comes, when I am disposed of, when the mannequin is stowed away in the dark, does it matter anymore, what I was? What I liked, disliked, hated, hummed, ate, read, wrote, blogged? Does it carry on into the next, if there is one, in a silent sleeper module?

I'm not tripping, I'm not high. I'm just thinking aloud. Shouting into the emptiness. No reply expected.

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