I am now in some strange and unprecedented predicament; I am stuck in my backyard and I can’t do anything: I don’t want to go inside the house; it’s too quiet. I don’t want to go out either. I don’t want to do anything considering the scope and limits of the current possibilities. Basically I can’t do anything, yet it feels as if something has to be done, as if I am in a transitory state right now and at any moment I everything will fall right into its place. What kind of a purgatory is that! I don’t like this at all and I don’t like to change it either. I am incapable of making a choice or maybe I am just choiceless. I wish I could do just anything I damn well please and then go back in time if it didn’t please me. I don’t like the bear the responsibility of choice right now. That would be not only fine but miraculous if someone would make the choice for me right now, some nature, some instinct. Sometimes I think that the French existentialists would do the world a favor if they kept it to themselves and never published anything. It is something that my existence precedes my essence; it is another if I know about it. This kind of knowledge, along with most kinds of knowledge, don’t do any good to a single man in his early thirties, especially if he is cursed and blessed with an ecstatic love of this surreally real world to which he is condemned to farewell. Even though I have been writing for a few minutes my problem of situation is not yet resolved. I had to come inside so to write, but my mind is in the backyard. I can’t let go of the backyard, my dear cozy and homey backyard with a tempting view of the beautiful and sublime. I haven’t told you this, but my backyard is one of a kind in the whole world; I won’t change this backyard with the white house or the Kremlin. In recent years my parents have been insisting that I buy a house or an apartment, but are you out of your mind! This place I am living in, this strange part of the world where the time and the compass lose their minds, this dear house of mine is untradeable. In it I have cried, I’ve laughed; I have dreamt and seen the truth, or often I have lost myself to the devil. It is my second organic body, its toilet is its heart and its backyard is its eyes. It should be noted that my toilet’s flush is the best flush of the world; even a government toilet doesn’t have a flush as strong as mine; an elephant could relieve itself in my toilet without leaving a trace. If there is any worthy idea in my head it was conceived of in this very fine toilet, and it was in this inviting toilet that I finally and after 15 years grasped the true meaning of Quantum Mechanics. But nothing is like the colorful backyard. No sir, I am never going to buy a house or an apartment. I have been investing and saving my money for years so I can someday buy this very backyard; and I would buy it even if it came without the rest. Oh dear, what the hell am I going to do tonight. I wished the evening would never end. Sitting in the backyard I could hear the warming voices of my neighbor BBing in their backyard. The indistinct voices of the family spending an evening together was like a beautiful and calming background music stroking my secluded spirit. I was so happy sitting a few feet from a lovely family and stealing a little bit of their generous warmth afar so to be sedated with some love and compassion. Yes dear, this evening I committed theft, and I take full responsibility for it. I even admit that I didn’t want this evening to end precisely because I didn’t want the neighbors to evacuate their backyard, to leave each other and to leave me, and me with a tale and a memory. I didn’t want my neighbors to let that fire of togetherness and mutual dependence to extinguish. But every evening has an end and everyone a home. In this very special evening I wished the whole universe with its 13.7 billion years of revolution and evolution would be the gathering of my neighbor in their backyard in an evening that would last the entire 13.7 billion years, preferably to eternity. I wished such and such so I could steal more of their warmth; and this is my crime of passion this evening; and that is why I didn’t want to leave my backyard. I didn’t want to leave the scene and I wanted to be there in case of a miraculous chain of events that could reunite us again. I sneaked a look into their backyard hoping they are just playing a hide and seek, that they’re still there in the dark. Alas, it was just me in the dark. But if you knew me, that I am not just a normal optimist, that I am that infamous Sagittarius optimist, then you’d know that I die but I don’t give up, that I will spend my days and nights to track down another one of my neighbors’ feast of love; and I would sit again in my backyard stealing still more of their warmth. For I am very fond of my next door neighbors; Why not be fond of your neighbor? Jesus even said “Love Thy Neighbor;” but what I find strange is that in our globally concerned nation people can’t care less about their neighbors and pass by them as if they passed by their street’s bushes and trees, and as if we’re a burden to one another. Yet the government of this glorified nation bothers to stretch its so-called concenrful hands to the other side of the world and in the Middle East to ask how they are holding up, to care for them, to give them the gift of freedom! Why don’t we just make it easier and just call if Meddle-East instead of Middle-East! What happened then to our immediate neighbors?! Little do we know. But I don’t bother with this boring politics. My Middle East is right next door, just a few feet away, in a bright community. In my frequent walks I take in this community I sometimes fantasize that what if I could turn this neighborhood into an independent city-state much like the ancient Greeks; that I could perhaps make it like Plato’s Utopia in which the end and wellbeing of the individual is subordinated to those of the community. I then imagine myself recruiting soldiers and revolting against the county so to own our community; and after our victory I would announce the Tyson’s Oaks Independence. We would erect borders, making it a self-sufficient country with a long waiting list for visa applicants. We would produce everything ourselves, teach and train our kids (I’d personally take care of their math and physics). We will denounce the money system and trade only with goods. We’ll have cattle and livestock. People will vote for me to become the king; and I would become a king; I would make it a socialist aristocracy. I would organize feasts and festivals. I would personally pick my queen from this same neighborhood. Sorry, the kingdom. I’d let my queen name the kingdom, and I would it make it the most glorious kingdoms of all. Yet I’ll first need to deport a few people and send them to the Gallows. My backyard will be court. I will own a sheep and name it the courtsheep. Courtsheep will then provide for me and the queen. We’ll hang out with neighbors all night; and the next day we’ll wake up at noon; then we eat and play together. In the evenings queen and I will ride on our royal horse called Course through the neighborhood with people standing around and cheering for us. We’ll live happily ever after and I won’t have to steal anymore. And this is how I filled the rest of the evening so far and so to let the charm of my neighborly evening fade away slowly and less painfully; and I’ve been wasting your time and mine to go through some fantasies together. You may ask so what?! And I’d say so we were together, even if it was just a fantasy. Goodnight now.
Posted on: Mon, 12 Aug 2013 04:29:27 +0000
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