A Little Less Conversation

I suppose the full reason of this sojourn will never really be known - the dark meaning behind it all too complex and muddled to make any sense out of it. I suppose you can attach whatever it is that you would like to it, go through me and project thoughts and ambitions of your own. Go ahead. It's ok, I really don't mind. I suppose, also, that it's my responsibility to discuss at least a few of the motivations and triggers, at least pull a small corner of the curtain back, otherwise it's rambling goddamned nonsense, and you get enough of that from Other Ones.

The truth is that the talk got to be too much. Too many dreams failed, too many plans allowed to rot, too many projects and hopes discarded despite the efforts of the Few.

I can take failure. I am no stranger to the everlasting self-doubt and the inability to perform actions that others handle with relative ease. I understand things are hard, and I also understand that there is a True Life, one with all sorts of unaccommodating demands and trivial hang-ups, and that it gets in the way quite often. Look, I'm living this shit too. Or at least I was.

No, the truth was the talk, that's what launched the ships. It was buried deep in the idea that you could just say whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted, and that someone else would listen to this and be forced to comment, like some puppet act. Also, that there would be no reprecussions, no punishment to go with the inaction. That something could be tossed about like a volleyball, batted around for a day or a week or a minute, and then left to sit for the rest of eternity.

And that there were fields of these dead plans that stretched further than I could see with my own fucking eyes.

Well, that was part of it, a Negative part that holds a lot less weight here, something that was like sprinkles on frosting, nothing of substance, just a provision thrown into the soup. I'd rather not have it that way, surely, but it's there and I'm not in the business of floating bullshit from across The Blue. Leave that up to Hemingway, if and when you can find him.

I should, though, tell you that it lives and breathes. It has a soul, this inaction, this burrowing insect, and it follows even to far away lands. The talk, it hitched a ride in my suitcase, got out and smelled the fresh Green air and made itself at home.

I suppose it would. It's not like you just leave it behind, like a posession. It's a fucking Brain Part, a web of thoughts and behaviors that would take a fall down some steep steps to jar loose or even damage. No, it's not going out like that.

And so that struggle, which the California Gold Squadron is keen to observe, it's played out across oceans, on other continents like a bastardization of our American Sport. So hell, watch it and put money on it. I guess to an observer, it might be quite interesting. I suppose if I'm ever to escape it, I've got to violently rebel against it. And I think, to many degrees, I've already done that. I am, after all, here.

Exactly why still remains a mystery. And now, it's even more complex, even more important to Unlock.

In the battle against Reason, you can only be unreasonable, and that means that you can end the battle any time you want.