Consume and Die

Every week felt the same. The table would be set. The candles would be lit. A few prayers would be uttered, and then we would eat our fill. It was just your run-of-the-mill human social complex, but when I think of the word complex, I expect something a little more... sophisticated.


“Oh, this election is great,” someone at the table remarked, “It’s gotta be the best one yet!”
“Yeah but it’s not supposed to be television,” someone else interjected between mouthfuls, “‘cause the one in charge is gonna take care of us for 4 fuckin’ years.”
A brief quiet ensued, only periodically interrupted by the clashing of silverware.


“Well I’m sure it won’t make much of a difference,” the head of the table muttered, “We’re still here. There’s still work to do. Doesn’t matter if this country’s run by a squirrel. Bills need to be paid…” His voice trailed off into his food.
That was an interesting thought. Did it really matter? The president is just a fancy title afforded to a pretty face. They aren’t superheroes or magicians. They’re just human beings in tailored suits with particularly slick tongues. America is strange that way. People come here with a picture of a giant ladder in their head, and they imagine themselves scaling that ladder - watching it transform from a rusted iron pole into a golden walkway. There’s all this talk of progress and growth. Everyone is running to cure cancer, craft the perfect burger, design a revolutionary footstool with built-in bluetooth speakers. Do the people of the world truly believe in the idea of infinite progress?


“You know,” the head began again, “this country always elects the wrong guy. The public, they're just dumb. They don’t know jack shit. All they do is consume and die, all of them.”
That seemed like a sensible statement, though it wasn’t very original, as much as he made it sound that way. Every angry successful person has a sheep theory. They think a chosen few herders lead the sheep in and out of their pens, but to be honest, it seems like everyone consumes and dies. If you aren’t consuming yourself, you’re consuming others. If I were to really boil it down, those two words seem to fit snugly into the box labeled, “human”.
It’s an inescapable loop. People appear to fantasize and desire fluidity - fluidity of work, of love, of location. The idea is classified as exotic. In reality though, we embody stagnation. We are easily convinced to settle down, to say enough is enough. Every day someone yells, “This needs to change! We are the next generation! Let’s Improve!” Improve on what? There are as many leaks on this boat as there are stars in the galaxy. It’s our prerogative to clog up every single hole, but the water will come through eventually. A new boat will be constructed and it’ll sink all the same.

I looked down at my chicken soup, chunks of pale meat drifting in the broth below.

Consume and die...

I took a sip, knowing full well it would burn my tongue, but I still winced. Well, I haven’t died yet.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Another Shift

Today was the first day that I chose to sit in the shade. I'd gotten so used to having the sun on me that the darker side of things felt eerily cold. Though it was far from winter, I felt deeply shaken and unsettled, uprooted from comfort. The pillars around me provided stripes of cover much like trees in a forest. Above me was a canopy that these pillars held up, and tiny beams of sunlight peaked through to reach me. I chose to be patient today. I chose not to rush from building to building, from class to class, from failure to success, from expense to investment. I decided to take a moment and breathe - survey my surroundings. When I stopped and looked, under the wings of a shadowy sanctuary, I noticed the hundreds of people who bolted from Point-A to Point-C. I could hear the marching of their shoes, heels, slippers, and flats, all working in unison toward a cause unknown. I saw human beings swallowed up by piles of brick and concrete, only to later be regurgitated with newf...
Read more

So Shy

Watching over the people, the birds, the flowers, the trees. All dancing in the breathe of his lungs. He watches with eagerness and a desire to learn. A desire to see how they react to him. He watches their laughter, their tears, their footsteps, and yet he is unsure of how to approach. Perhaps he finds peace in keeping his distance, wondering and listening and hopeful of new events. Only when there are those who struggle does he come to intervene, but such a rare moment that is. And even then, once they are lifted off the hard ground, he recedes back into the shadows to resume his tenure as a ghost. Maybe he is indeed shy, afraid of what his presence might do, or perhaps believes himself incapable of facing his own machinations. He feels the wind and sun just as they do, but he feels such different ways - Unable to comprehend, to grasp their limits. He watches them grow old and die, and he seems sad because they are all so unique. They are all so beautiful, and yet he cannot a...
Read more

Just Garbage

Spring cleaning never gets easy. Sometimes you find that, year by year, one accumulates an impressionable amount of waste. This year was no different than the rest. In my hands was a trash bag, full and hefty with dusty displeasure. Even so, I felt the need to double-check the contents, otherwise I wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing I might've thrown out an antique. The first object I found was a pair of sunglasses. I had gifted them to an ex-girlfriend a while back. She always wore shades, so I figured they were an appropriate present. Only when she broke up with me did she explain that wearing them was the best way to avoid eye contact with me. Beneath the glasses was a lead pencil, snapped in two. I had gotten into an argument with my father about how I would make a living. "You're 19 now," he'd say, "Time to get off your ass." I got so infuriated with him for not understanding and I crushed this pencil in between my fingers. He left i...
Read more