A group of kids board the bus and take some seats ahead of me. One of them is faintly singing, and it’s beautiful, whatever it is; his voice was like something from a different time, and place. Then he stopped to pick up conversation with his friends, which lead to someone exclaiming “–she’s lying!”, as if his friend was being mislead and his tone implied it was only obvious, that I cracked a grin, and felt assured that humanity would carry on into the future.
I’m not especially familiar with the various definitions of Feminist that have come into existence, but I am certain that the spirit of it is all but dead, and lunacy (oh the irony in that word…) has risen in its wake.
I’m no expert but I’m pretty certain that babies, be they male or female, are made when a sperm penetrates an egg and with some patience and much labor, the fetus will bake in approximately 9 months and graduate to infant (mozeltoff, it’s your birthday). Indeed science has brought us far, and the whole birds n’ bee’s bit doesn’t even need to happen for the sperm to meet its destiny egg! That’s pretty f’ing terrific, right? If you can afford that. It’s unreasonably expensive to adopt children, let alone making one out of your own gene pool with the helpful hands of many doctors and several invasive procedures.
I can practically hear you now. “We’ll fight to change that too!”
But that change won’t happen over night. Hell, Ireland is still fighting for the right of abortion, and the United States Vice President aims to make it illegal in the Land of the Free.
And if you think that won’t happen, you’re either naively optimistic about American Politics, or you’re just not listening at all, which makes you a part of the problem, not the solution.
When you can’t afford making or adopting a baby with your wife or husband, you eventually settle into a different routine which usually involves several dogs or cats…or both, and a fish. None of which is a bad thing, but admittedly wasn’t your first choice.
Now, the patriarchy affects women and men differently, but I think we can agree it’s pretty negative all the way around. So what the fuck is this “the future is female” bullshit then? Switching out words and definitions because you like your idea of what it means better, isn’t logical, let alone reasonable. It’s childish. It says you’re not able to think critically, and understand why the future is only what we will make of it, and this ridiculous divide between the sexes only makes “we the people” weaker against the real oppressors. Triggered at every perceived offense because it makes you uncomfortable…
Yeah, life is tough baby’s.
Some people are going to be shitty.
That doesn’t have to be your problem if you choose.
Learn to suck it up, buttercup.
The amount of violence we see today is paid for and instigated by the very people you expect to fix it.
The future won’t be anything but what the Oligarchs of our great empires say it is if we don’t get our collective shit together. Start thinking in place of virtue signaling till you’ve blown a cornea; find alternatives to federal and state banking; support local business, and businesses that contribute and provide for their communities rather than their quarterly bonuses; decentralize information, especially news networks and investigative journalists; speak up as a witness to injustice, corruption, and moral bankruptcy, especially when everyone else around you is silent.
Equality between the sexes isn’t given by governments, especially if you have any kind of peaceful faith placed in your heart by a greater power. It has always been there, and we have so many smart men and women today that can tell you why, but you’ll have to Youtube that yourself.
I tried to spark up conversation with you, again, and it went no where, like always. Sometime a few weeks ago, I saw something on your Instagram that struck the final chord and I snapped. Those were the last tears I will shed over you. I see the hole where you use to be but it looks more like a door now, amidst a field of poppy blossoms.
[My mindpalace is pretty magnificent, if I do say so myself.]
I’ll always know to find you in the pines.
Goodbye, Sweet Dixie.
I didn’t know it then, but I wrote something for the occasion, a poem no less. I’m only just a wordsmith.
These thoughts circle like wolves.
Predators. Tooth and claw,
blood and bone; until the soil is saturated.
From this sanguine fluid,
the anemone blossoms,
in the memory of us &
I am laid to rest.
Writing came easily to me, albeit poorly, as a young tween. “Of course it did!” I think to myself now; I had a lot to say about the events of my young life to date. School did little to improve my crude art. Actually, school did me little service, so I withdrew into books, and of course the aforementioned internet. Inside these chatroom’s I found a world of writers that called themselves roleplayers whose writing talents ranged from novice hobbyist to undiscovered novelist and everything in between. Some channels featured entire original content while others were more like fan-fiction channels dedicated to the latest blockbuster hit in theaters; I enjoyed a bit of both.
During the first decade of the new millennium, I found solace from the chaos and hell that was my home life in books, and writing. Over the years I improved considerably, mainly to keep other player interested in writing stories with me. Competition helps refine any skill. My source of creativity was fueled by the hell and demons of my waking life which made it easier to spin tales of great conflict and turmoil, but always to a happy resolution..at least in the beginning. As I grew as a writer, fairytales seemed less satisfying if they were always told for the tender hearts of children, so I embraced realism and finality; I also embraced the macabre.
Eventually though, the pain and sadness became too much, and even anguish can’t write the words; there was nothing left to say.
I haven’t written substantially in years, which had left me wondering if I was a fraud, and if my mindpalace is as grand as I believe it is. I’m still not sure. I haven’t produced anything, yet. I haven’t written the next binge series. So focused on what I haven’t done to even think about doing anything else…
Well, that’s going to change.
I have so many stories both long and short that I want to share. Even if it’s only ever here on this WordPress with no distinguished name or editor; I will produce many somethings, and I will write.
Sometimes the nothingness of anonymity is bliss. No name, no face, no identity; it’s just enough for the imagination to run wild.