Cats Away
Posted by Esteban
It’s a fantasy world. The way others see us; what’s possible, what’s not; the way things fit together — all these things made up. Slices $1. See how they shape us? The plains paved into cities, the millions slaughtered, our lives wasted in mad pursuit? The worker’s body lay in the mine for three days. It all seems real, I know — but it’s made from gossamer. Can you see it? The ancient fantasies woven into our perceptions? A dragonfly hovers on a field of clover. Children run through hallways. The officer orders a latte.
Yet, without fantasy, there’s no reality. How could we face it, the totality of existence, without our little ideas of order? Do you remember when we lived in trees? There were things we ate and things we didn’t eat. Don’t you read the newspapers? It comes down to this, motherfuckers: which fantasy will you embrace and how will you fight for it?
If I keep reading and trying to analyze those written words, I fear I will become a Scientologist.
Or a world-class stoner.
(I know which option I’d prefer…)
Yet, I’m addicted. More, please.
(So glad I chose the red pill)
“It comes down to this, motherfuckers: which fantasy will you embrace and how will you fight for it?”
Ahhh, Esteban, thank you. That question pierced me to the core.
Answer forthcoming…
Wrath: you don’t know what that means to me.
Sphrosyne: *waits expectantly.*
I love the way you think, Esteban.
Here it is, Esteban!
Thank you for the inspiration!
I don’t remember living in a tree.
I don’t remember ‘fighting’ for a fantasy either.
That’s the reality, Esteban.