How stand I then?

Tonight, I feel like I am running with wings strapped to my arms, but I can't get any lift. I'm not complaining, and I'm not whining. It's just the way it is.

We start out free-ranging ships, eagles with unlimited sky. Somehow, over time, the world becomes a committee of penguins who convince us that we are not ships aiming for the golden thread of the horizon- no, not stallions, nor eagles. No, we are iron locomotives fed black coal so we can chug forward indefinitely along a single track line. We must eat the coal or the "true death" comes. This is not a eye-widening explosion wrought by a sharpened stake, but a death by rust, by slow lethargic consignment to a decay of momentum into a twilight junkyard of oxidizing iron. 

Perhaps my subtle leanings towards a gnostic view of the universe have worn some callouses on my brain. Or perhaps, I have read a little too much of Philip K. Dick's Exegesis and taken him too seriously. And then maybe a Shocktop would take the edge off. I could laugh, shake my head and go back to blowing my train whistle while the autopilot light quietly blinks on. Whoo Whoo!

Right.

Last time I checked, I was still alive. I still have breath going through my bronchioles and Mike Burns ain't no consumptive coughing into a bloody handkerchief. Playing Doc Holiday, the "Dying Hamlet Hero" is tempting, but I'd like to keep it real.

But this transition and death seems inevitable. Can we fight it? When it comes at me, can I clock it in the head with an aluminum baseball bat? *KRUNG!*


When that damn angel grabs hold of me, judo-chop that dude to the ground and full-nelson him until I get a blessing? When Mr. Smith kicks me in the chest and holds my head to the train track saying:

"You hear that, Mr. Anderson? That is the sound of inevitability. That is the sound of your death."

How about getting back up to do a Kung Fu "come to daddy" move and with the cool little hand motion beckon, tell Mr. Smith where he can stick his "inevitability".

So Fuck that locomotive. 


I'll fight to keep my wings. My Kung Fu is definitely stronger than any damn penguin committee.

Earlier this evening, I watched a short film (only 25 minutes) that captured the correct mental state and outward action I think we should all aim for. 

Kurt Vonnegut's "Harrison Bergeron" (Read the full text story here online: 

http://www.tnellen.com/cybereng/harrison.html) is an unforgettable short science fiction story that I first read in High School English. The year is 2081 and everyone is forced to become "truly equal". 

The "Handicapper General" ensures that all citizens are "equalized", to the detriment of individuality and repression of the extraordinary. Yet one man defies this tyranny and challenges the establishment to a unique stand-off for a surprising objective. Someone spent a lot money to produce an almost perfect dramatic rendition of this in the form of a short film. 

Brilliantly executed. They nailed it, and I was touched.

Watch it below; I think we should all strive to say Harrison Bergeron's Creed: 

"I am an abomination of the able. 

I am an exception to the accepted. 

I am the greatest man, you have never known." 

2081- Harrison Bergeron

Death to the locomotive. 

Long live open seas and wide skies, 
and Harrison Bergeron!