The Postulations of a Pompous Pedant

Have you ever tried to put horse blinders on your vision and speed through darkness like Sherlock Holmes on a foggy night, lantern ablaze, creaking loudly over the moor in search of the killer, the thief, the wayward prince? Sometimes I feel like my life is a fairy tale — like The Princess And The Pea, and I’m the pea. I’ve sat at this desk for too long without result, writing quasi-autobiographies, trying different formulas; but the beakers shatter and the Petry dish won’t grow a new me so I’m close to hanging up my scientist goggles.

The search for meaning, for substance, is what leads us to the edge. We live in fear of Nothingness…. and as a result fill our lives with things we don’t need. Plasma TVs, designer jeans, MP3s. Those that don’t have fear, live with nothing to lose. They’re the ones we label crazy. Once we accept that everything is made of nothing, we realize we already have everything we need. There’s a picture on my wine rack of me as a baby, big fat cheeks, blank baby stare. I look at it and think of the years in between and feel a tickle in my throat from the all the words I’ve spoke that disappeared in ears I’ve loved that don’t listen to them anymore.

When I was born there was a soul placed in orbit that was destined to crash into me one day, like the asteroid that will eventually strike and destroy this planet. I have been living in fear ever since the day the umbilical was cut. I cried at the wolf but it was out the door before the doctor removed his latex gloves. Love is like — whatever your dream it, nightmares and all. Unfortunately your heart doesn’t have a ‘you break it you bought it’ policy.

I’ve seen the end and it’s just a small puff of air, the gentlest whisper from the church mouse.

I’ve said it before, life looks aflame from afar but close up it’s just fireflies in a jar.

This is the truth, life is simple. An orange. A crosswalk. A wristwatch.

From this spot by the window I can see my car and watch the dust settle across the windshield. A homeless man is rifling through the blue, city-issued recycle bins for cans and bottles that my neighbors and I have tossed away and he is humming a tune that I am sure he made up. To others it’s a sign of madness; to me, art… who is able to say?

There’s a man-made lake by the ocean with statues of all the Gods placed around it in a garden. I hope to go this weekend and take my place by the water.

There’s a park on the hill overlooking the city with droopy trees like loveless faces. I hope to go there tonight and bend towards the city lights.

I’m eating
fruit cocktail
from a can…

Tonight the glare of the streetlamps careened towards me like bisecting bisexuals.

She believed in God and I believed in her.

I need the Ez Comb — for a new hairstyle… in just seconds! Only $9.99 for a limited time. Imagine the possibilities. Shipping and handling is free. The men and women in the commercial look so happy. It’s like nothing can go wrong for them!

Ice cream scoops at Basken Robbins were only 31 cents today. Swine flu will kill us all but at least the ice cream will be cheap. I’m never going to turn back time but I’ll try anyway. Erect a monument to all failed artists, all starving boulevardiers who drink the most fashionable brandies with malarial smiles. My muse is a magician because all she does is disappear. The roller coaster attendant pushes one button to lock the safety bar and off you go. He’s seventeen with pimples and dreams of the girl who sits next to him in Trig.

Elliot Smith sings and the cockroaches hide underneath the potted palm. Los Angeles is filled with people like me, people barely able to get up in the morning but who can’t go to sleep at night, who refuse. It’s a city of cacophonous beauty. Models and murderers. Debutantes and derelicts.

I brush my teeth and floss in between the gaps. Toothpaste flies on the mirror so the reflection of my face looks riddled with white bullet holes. It’s two in the morning and I need to get some sleep but the wolf is knocking at the door and I’ve run out of dreams anyway. The water in the Brita is copper colored and possibly poisonous. There is nothing left to do but open the door and pour a shot of brandy.

Hello there…

wolf

Advertisements

One response to “The Postulations of a Pompous Pedant

  1. whoa nellie! hoot-whistle of the millions, minions,
    mullions (cant talk this is way too great) *stars beyond the milky way********

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s