Part Won

Once, there were little buggies, little one-celled creatures that could bump about and smell a few chemical changes in their world of organic soup. “This is all there is to be known,” they declared, and went about their contended existence, absorbing and dividing, absorbing and dividing, and making a lot more of themselves. But a radical few somehow knew there was more out there than proteins and amino acid chains. They could sense it in their cilia, feel it in their flagella and know it in their nucleus. They could not prove it, but they knew there was more to be known about What Is Out There. Though most of the bacteriological community rejected this radical thesis and thought them mad, a precious few wanted to lift the veil on the rest of the universe. So they put their potentially eternal life on the line and, in fear and hot water, they organized themselves into multiple-celled critters. In that transcendent moment they OPENED THEIR FIRST EYE!

Not an actual eyeball of course, but a collection of real, working nerves. Good move! Now they could FEEL their connection to the chemical soup that swarmed about them and knew far more about What Is Out There. This gave them a tremendous advantage over the sense-less ones, whom they ate. The dark, quiet, still, flavorless pool of slight chemical variation became an active sensory bath of pinches, bumps and strokes. Quite inflamed by this new flood of data, the nematode nation invented sex. Another good move, because not only did they multiply like crazy, but in that magic moment of frenzied fornication, they also came into contact with a quiet feeling deep within their nerve clusters. There was still more to know! Though the rest of the worms scoffed and called them mad, the pioneering few concentrated their nerves in the direction of the faint, faint, impossibly faint stimulus that beckoned to them and, in a transcendent moment, OPENED THEIR SECOND EYE!

Light! Sound! Color motion pictures! Good move again! More of the universe unfolded, a sensual cornucopia of information about What Is Out There and their connection to it; and they gorged themselves on it – eating, reproducing and watching 500 channels of cable TV. One frenzy of sensual fun later, the organic soup was filled with these Children of the Organized Nerve Cluster. Though deep within their ganglia they knew there was more to be known, most of them made the mistake their single-celled ancestors made so long ago. They scoffed at the notion that there was more to be known and any more ways of knowing it, and called any dissenters madmen. Well sir, a pioneering few again concentrated their awareness on the still, sweet sound that lay across the chasm of sensory awareness, stirred something somewhere within the recesses of the glandular system and, in a transcendent moment, OPENED THEIR THIRD EYE!

Good move yet again! They received messages and sensory information unknown to the average cow or market analyst and just as hard to explain to them as it is to explain trigonometry to a meal worm. They took another quantum leap forward in knowledge about What Is Out There and their ineffable connection to it. But the rest of the cows and market analysts call them mad. Well, twenty-three zillion bacteria said the same thing a hundred million years ago. And guess where they are today? They’re still bacteria! So I say to you, be mad! Be willing to be insane before the rest of the world. Wear your individual madness proudly! Overcome the tyranny of your current neurological input devices, and TAKE LEAVE OF YOUR SENSES!

Hubris! Talk talk talk, nothing but talk. I’m writing in Times New Roman 10, because somehow I feel these ramblings don’t deserve a fancy font and I like these words to stay small, if they were bigger I feel I could feel like not-writing anymore. I always stop writing at some point. For instance, this paragraph above was not written just now, I just wanted something to fill this page, because an empty sheet is too confronting. The paragraph above are the words of a Malkavian. If you don’t know what a Malkavian is, don’t bother trying to figure it out. Someone has written to me today that I’m different, that I somehow miss the code.

At least, I think that was what he said. How dare he suggest that there is a code, and that I lack knowledge of that code (if there is one). Nonsense, is what Alice said to the caterpillar. No she didn’t, but it sounds like something Alice would say, that cheeky little monster. After the code incident, someone wrote ‘spooooky’ and stopped there. The reason for me writing this down, if there is any, is that I –tonight- feel that I should pay more attention to what people say to me. Not what they mean or what I think they mean, or assume they mean, but to their actual words. The words they utter to me, without reflection on my part. I really believe I will become more neurotic if I keep this up. Already I feel more anal. I feel like I should complain more. This is what most people write about, isn’t it?

Their complaints, their ennui, how lost they feel in society, how everyone is against them and most importantly: how misunderstood they are. I really hate that, it’s just too boring. See, humor. Feel free to use it in everyday life. Today I told my professor I was feeling self-destructive. He laughed and gave me an excellent grade. I was confused, but somehow feeling happier. I could draw conclusions out of this particular event, but I won’t. Oh look at that, I’m near the end of page one, isn’t that great.

Finished already? That’s alright, I’ll borrow this idea. Daring sword fight included.