More than what I see and even more that what you think or assume, and beyond what either of us think or feel or believe about the reflection I see in the mirror, there is an ongoing truth concerning the difference between facts and opinion.
There are certain facts which go beyond our approval and denial.
One of these facts are I am me and you are you and despite faults and flaws or similarities and differences; we both live and breathe. Then again, living and breathing are left up to interpretation.
Of course, one could argue that the ideas of living and breathing can be relative.
I think living and being alive are two different things.
Don’t you?
I know people who are alive and yet, they never dared or tried or had the chance to live their life to the fullest possible experience.
Bukowski wrote how “some people never go crazy” and then he went o to explain, “what truly horrible lives they must lead.”
And I get that
I see this world as a big, big project. Like an experiment in a lab.
you know?
And here we are, products of an environment which has been designed for us, like rats in the cage. Not all of our set-ups are the same. Not all of our surroundings are equal.
Some cages have better water sources and food supplies.
Some have better access to amusement and areas to play and experience joy.
Some of the cages for this experiment are designed for comfort and of course, some are the polar opposite.
And this is done for effect, of course.
We have our private rooms in this experiment. But all specimens are different.
We have common or public corridors and areas. And here we are, New York City, and this is just a small part of a much bigger test
I swear.
I seem millions of people around me.
I see them walking with their sense of personal urgency.
I see people in uniforms, and some have their business clothes and working attire.
The truth is we are all wearing one kind of suit or another.
I am here, dressed in mine, currently in nothing but the boxer shorts which is what I slept in.
My cage in this experiment is also know as my apartment or my dwelling for this observation is small and humble.
There is not much to it. I don’t have much
My place is a mess, however, which is part of the habitat and partly; this is what the so-called gods or leaders of this experiment are watching—which is me.
And sure, although I am only a tiny part; I am one out of the other billions of specimens that are being noted and documented.
By the way . . .
I say this figuratively and I ensure you that I mean this both figuratively and with a degree of harmless sarcasm—but again, this part of Purgatory has been kind as far as the weather goes.
This is not a version of paranoia and nor is this a psychosis or anything like that.
I understand more about life by the use of analogies
Understand?
Metaphors. . .
Analogies . . .
Comparissons . . .
Parallels
Or whatever
There are certain facts. Or maybe my facts only apply to my cage or to me as a specimen.
There are going to be goodbyes that change us.
There are going to be situational outcomes that are designed to see our response to stimuli.
This is what the experiment is about
There are going to be final goodbyes that we did not prepare for and yes; there will be wishes and regrets.
There will be rehearsals played out in front of mirrors, —and we will talk and we will negotiate and we will try and compromise with memories and beg, as if we could appeal to those who no longer with us are gone.
And we will beg and cry.
We will pray. Yes, we will pray
Even the godless pray when it comes to the greater losses
We ask and we plead, and we try, just to see if we can cheat the system or appeal with enough emotion to get our way.
We do this to urge the observers and the powers that be, —as if to plead, “Please, God! Just give me another chance!”
“Just one more chance.”
We rehearse these talks in front of mirrors and humbly; we ask for the higher-ups to give us another shot or a chance at a personal or an emotional redemption.
Sometimes, we fail to see that no means no
Unchangeable is unchangeable.
Unalterable means nothing can be altered.
And here . . .
Right here . . .
This is when the observers and the laboratory gods look down from above and view us in our perspective habitats.
We all have mirrors.
We all have reflections.
We all see the truth.
We just might not like what the truth has to say.
Facts—
– the world is a big, vast, and wonderous place.
– wind across your face can be the most uplifting thing
– life has different phases and versions and steps and guides.
– love is the most amazing and bravest, beautiful, and undoubtedly the most painful emotion known to our kind.
– there are critics
– there are dreamers
– there are builders and creators.
– and yes, the sun and the moon depict a perfect unity and cohesion between the yin and yang or the duality and the dichotomy of day and night and life and death.
Some people will spend their entire life in their perspective cocoons. They will never dare to peek or look elsewhere. Some will become accustomed to their domicile or humble abode and never break from their enclosure and dare the journey to find their purpose.
Nothing in this world is worse than being purposeless.
At least, not to me
I see millions of people moving through the underground syringes or shuttles known as the new York City subway system. I see all kinds of people.
I see the Mme first” people who push their way through. I see the people on the road who drive with the same intention and dammit all to Hell, come Hell or highwater, no one is going to cut them off or get in front of them.
I see people who look down their nose at the poor.
I see the poor who steal from the rich and act richer.
I see wealthy people who deserve prison.
I see jailed people who deserve freedom.
But again, the experiment here is to see how we react to our situational and circumstantial challenges.
I know bad people.
I am one of them . . .
And yet, I know I am good
I know that I have a heart.
I know that my anger is a mask or a cover for a fragile young boy who witnessed and experienced and saw things that no one should have to see.
And yes. I get mad
I get angry.
I lose my temper.
I lose my mind quit often but in all fairness; I think I lost my mind and my God during a bad afternoon.
This is when my love told me that even death were the alternative—she would rather die than be with me.
And whether she meant it or not is irrelevant.
I am elsewhere.
I lost what I lost
I gained what I gained.
And now, I have you in a much different respect.
And so –
if all else fails with me as a specimen in this experiment, which I refer to as Project Earth, then perhaps the observers and the laboratory gods can learn something from me.
At minimum; they an see what happens to a man when he breaks.
Some live
Some breathe
and some . . .
Well, let me say this
I see a young woman at work. She always smiles and she always regards me with the kindest and the warmest “hello.”
Perhaps her hellos are the warmest since the creation of the word itself.
This young woman . . .
She lives and breathes and she works and smiles.
She sings and she dances and she loves with all of her heart.
She is another specimen in this experiment, for sure.
She is good and pure and loving.
She does amazing things
And
She does all of this while fixed in her wheelchair.
She has very little ability with her left arm.
Her right arm has more dominance and of course, her electric wheelchair is set up for her needs.
I fail in comparison.
I have cheated and I have complained.
I’ve bitched and I’ve fought and I’ve argued.
I stole and connived and scammed.
I’ve wasted hours and days and months.
I’ve wasted love and energy
And for what?
The girl at work . . .
I helped engineer and build an extra support for her in the bathroom
Her health aide and her Mother were there to show me what steps they take.
I watched her Mother lift the girl from the wheelchair. She went limp and in form, her body is helpless.
The mother did this with me and the builders on site to show what her toilet nees area
This was a rehearsal.
I had to shut the automatic flush so the toilet would not create water and get the young woman’s clothes wet.
I was humbled.
I know bad people.
I know me and I know what I have done.
I know my crimes personally, which is why I call them “me”
And so, to the observer and to the powers that be and to the laboratory and experiment gods; I offer this as a pleading request to those who look at us with their clipboards and note our response to stimuli—
please . . .
It is justice that I am where I am.
My losses are deserved.
My love changed and now, my love now is growing stronger still, and still . . .
I am far from her and alone and . . .
well . . .
I see my habitat.
I see my life.
I see my ability
and I see my complaints and my denied requests for a better enclosure.
I know this is justice\
I live and I breathe and certainly, I have no right to complain.
All I can do is heal
improve
and if agreed upon,
I will love more
and I will love harder too
Not even hell, the devil, the battle between gods, or the unbeatable hands of time will be ale to take her away from me
And so, dear Universe
I leave it up to you
until then
I will go back to my cage
and pay harder for my daily bread
But for her
for the young woman
Please, if you can
give her more
and, if that’s not enoug
she can have all you give me
she deserves it more than me
