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A Dirge to Meaning

A Dirge to Meaning
7/11/19 4:35 PM
Two pairs of meatflaps part and, causa sui, a world arises. The elders say massless particle-waves impact specialized cells which in turn protest that indignity by passing their own electromagnetic rabblerousing along a series of nerve cells and into a locus of blooming, buzzing confusion. Though bleary, the perceptive faculty boots up and conjures recognition from the chaos. The chamber of unconsciousness is as before (meet the new boss, same as the old boss). Disagreeable sensations soon assail the olfactory sense-sphere, as pathogens have again feasted on bodily secretions and their waste products must be removed. This is done with water, warmed by million-year-old starlight, and surface-tension reducing agents (mostly Sodium Lauroyl Isethionate) provided by the fine people at Unilever plc (NYSE: UL).

That done, this teetering bulb of dread and dream dons the culturally appropriate shame-cloth and seeks stimulants. After a concoction of plant-corpse-stew and bee vomit is safely buttressed between Cardia and the Pyloric sphincter, it is time for transport in an explosion-powered metal box. Hurtling along at speeds too ridiculous for evolution to have considered for a mammal this size, bigger, nicer (ohhh, ahhh!) boxes pass in the other direction, the occupants picking their noses to Corporate Pop; that death is inches away is too banal a fact to notice.

Reaching the situs of gainful employment, the time comes to swap role-faces (one man in his time plays many parts). Sua sponte, a thought arises:

I am a contract drafting em,
The loyalest of lawyers!
I draw up terms,
For deals ‘twixt firms,
To service my employers...

But ambitious go-getters don’t think such things, and so this is dropped. Following a ride heavenward in a wood-paneled box of quiet desperation, and once the customary 108 prostrations to the Oracle of Omaha are performed, the business of business begins. The job is simple. Push buttons and talk to people. If the buttons are pushed in the proper order and the words said are good, then electric bits will be flipped in the Alchemist Temple of Finance, and a small number will become a somewhat larger number. This is necessary so that one can later enter a very large metal box (Kindergarten syllabus, page one, sentence one: Life is a series of metal, wood, and brick boxes…) and exit with the sustenance required to hold the God of Entropy in abeyance for a while longer (and we say only one thing to him, “Not today.”) As the day goes on and fatigue builds, a new thought arises:

Grandpa was a carpenter,
He built houses, schools, and banks,
He chain-smoked Camel cigarettes,
And hammered nails in planks.
He was level on the level,
And shaved even every door,
He voted for ‘ole Ike Eisenhower
‘Cause Lincoln won the war.

Later, at a bland, soulless chain restaurant, (“You know the Nazis had flair, they made the Jews wear it…”) after brave Odysseus weathers another enforced-fun happy-hour affixed to the mast, the figure-ground dynamic briefly inverts, all agency is surrendered to the external and the ever-present stress of duality is seen through, feather-light and paper-thin (“they should have sent a poet”), until…. “Hey Hon, did ya save any room for dessert?” and it all falls apart–sorrow, lamentation, pain, grief, despair, old age, sickness, & death all come flooding back. “I see you Mara…and yes, I’ll have the ‘Death by Chocolate’, thanks.”

Gullet stuffed with Olmec Indian sacrament, our prodigal son returns to the homestead, where a tiny primate infestation continues unabated. Moreover, the buggers have begun to mimic the morphology of their hosts, thereby triggering the reflexive transference of affection from host to parasite and ensuring a continuing supply of food, shelter, and tummy tickles. While pondering this, the pair-bonded life-mate appears, “Hey Honey, how was your day?” Mindful of Right Speech, the reply comes, “All sensate experience is ultimately made of the same fluxing, vibrating stuff, so ‘Meh’ I guess? I’m looking forward to the quadrennial walrus vs carpenter primary debate tonight though; I just hope one of them can beat the Incumbent Cabbage-King, he makes me soo angry!” “That’s nice dear, but don’t forget that tiny primate number three has a recital at school tomorrow…”

Finally, back in the chamber of unconsciousness, after passing plastic over and between the mouth-stones, desire for the pair-bonded life-mate arises. “Hey beautiful, want to get frisky tonight?” “Oh, sweetie.” She sits up and soothes her lusty propositioner with a gentle caress of his cheek. “Don’t you know? All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream.” The meatflaps close again and the world is thrust out into oblivion, darkness, and sleep.

RE: A Dirge to Meaning
7/11/19 8:20 PM as a reply to Ryan.
Slow clap.

RE: A Dirge to Meaning
7/12/19 1:14 AM as a reply to Ryan.
Interesting!  Can the prose be it's own dream as well?  Or the DhO, if you need two to tango?  

RE: A Dirge to Meaning
7/12/19 4:39 AM as a reply to Ryan.
Very beatnik. I like it. Go get published!

RE: A Dirge to Meaning
7/12/19 5:31 AM as a reply to Ryan.
I couldn't really make head nor tail of this essay, but it seemed at the end our protagonist was rejected by his/her partner in a really bizarre way. That is very sad - partners shouldn't reject each other. It seemed very hurtful to me.

RE: A Dirge to Meaning
7/12/19 7:57 AM as a reply to J C.
I couldn't really make head nor tail of this essay...

1. Wake up and Shower
2. Put on clothes
3. Go to work
4. Do stuff at work
5. Dine
6. Return home
7. Converse with SO about political debates on TV
8. Go to bed - proposition SO - end up going to sleep


RE: A Dirge to Meaning
7/12/19 9:47 AM as a reply to Chris Marti.
Chris Marti – [doffs my cap]

curious – Thanks! And the dream aspect of it is important, though I’ll leave the determination of how as an exercise for the reader.

Linda – Cool, daddy-o. emoticon

JC – Maybe he was rejected, maybe not. Like the rest of the plot, such as it is, the narrative progression there is not the focal point. I’m more trying to play with language as well as invoke the sparkle of recognition through allusion and reference, all of which serve as means to highlight the central theme and flavor of the piece. Hope that helps.

RE: A Dirge to Meaning
7/12/19 1:20 PM as a reply to Ryan.
Chris Marti – [doffs my cap]

But I forgot to mention the children.

RE: A Dirge to Meaning
7/23/19 3:09 PM as a reply to Chris Marti.
That's quite alright. I find you can't forget the tiny primates for very long before they make themselves well-known to the six sense-spheres. emoticon