Friday, August 12, 2011
Divorce American Style
In the beginning, there was chaos. The kind of chaos that rearranges molecules, leaves you transformed at the cellular level. At first you're vaguely aware that the ground is shifting. You find yourself standing before an open gate. Perched on the edge of an inviting gorge. You can see the powerful water of the river far below. You can sense a radical epiphany in the making. There's something stirring in your soul. Dangerous voices whispering a new and yet familiar tune. You're presented with a choice: crawl on your knees and peek cautiously over the edge, or close your eyes and take the plunge. Comforting and familiar chaos behind, shadow encrusted and mind numbing chaos to the fore. Your choice. Do what something. Your best? Your worst? Don't think for a minute, not one ephemeral second, that you can turn around. Don't delude yourself that you can just stand still. Crawl or fall. A simple menacing, and deeply unsettling contradiction. Jump, stupid. Just jump. And falling into chaos, arms flailing, pathetic, hopeless, euphoric screams rising, you see the signs. Chiseled in the stone by ancient and gnarled hands of long dead savants. "Good luck you fool". "Good luck. Hang on to the emptiness. Why squirm? Why try to resist the irresistible? Enjoy yourself. The fall will kill you anyway."
