Thursday, April 13, 2017

Is no news good news?

Day after day, I look up towards the horizon, I see the tree leaves opening, open, green, reddening, browning, falling, blackening, rotting on the ground.



Bare branches frame the dawn, the dusk, a midday sun, a night, a year.

Sway, still.

Moments, keep sakes, sketches, musings.

A place, a breath, a dove that calls, a ritual.

I make a mark, a mental notch.


Insignificant significance...



WORSHIP, CHAOS, SUFFERING, SLANDER, WEALTH, DAMNED LIES,

Tabloid fonts, professional grievers, grave faces, po faces, serious faces...blood, guts and glee.

COMMUNE, CONSUME, CONSUMED

Ratings rise with my blood pressure, my anxiety, my feelings of helplessness, my loss of will to act.

I am Charlie, a Migrant, A Syrian, A Copte.




What day is it today?

I click twice.

The tree seems far away.


Wring your hands, wring the tea towel.

I open the fridge and get the milk.

I sit down and open the newspaper.

What day is it today?



Is no news good news?






“What the hell does it all mean anyhow? Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Nothing comes to anything. And yet, there's no shortage of idiots to babble. Not me. I have a vision. I'm discussing you. Your friends. Your coworkers. Your newspapers. The TV. Everybody's happy to talk. Full of misinformation. Morality, science, religion, politics, sports, love, your portfolio, your children, health. Christ, if I have to eat nine servings of fruits and vegetables a day to live, I don't wanna live. I hate goddamn fruits and vegetables. And your omega 3's, and the treadmill, and the cardiogram, and the mammogram, and the pelvic sonogram, and oh my god the-the-the colonoscopy, and with it all the day still comes where they put you in a box, and its on to the next generation of idiots, who'll also tell you all about life and define for you what's appropriate. My father committed suicide because the morning newspapers depressed him. And could you blame him? With the horror, and corruption, and ignorance, and poverty, and genocide, and AIDS, and global warming, and terrorism, and-and the family value morons, and the gun morons. "The horror," Kurtz said at the end of Heart of Darkness, "the horror." Lucky Kurtz didn't have the Times delivered in the jungle. Ugh... then he'd see some horror. But what do you do? You read about some massacre in Darfur or some school bus gets blown up, and you go "Oh my God, the horror," and then you turn the page and finish your eggs from the free range chickens. Because what can you do. It's overwhelming!” 




Is no news good news?




“Was I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of today? That with Estragon my friend, at this place, until the fall of night, I waited for Godot?”