I’m guessing it to be around 2 a.m.
I can’t be bothered with finding the time to find the time. I’m caught up watching Americans search for something other than the 9-to-5 that steals the soul knowing soon enough, AI will steal both for less pay.
I watch some barstool-bound bounty just elevated to a last-call 7. She, previously having only ever been an everyday 4. With the right spirits and enough desperation she will sail away with tonight’s disappointment. Her sights fixed on a young Navy boy that is about to be made a huge sacrifice for the nation. I thank him for his service from some distance away, but I don’t mean a word of it.
They make it back to her room, which she rents from her landlords in public name, but at home, "Mommy and Daddy" is their title. He secured the bounty with 7 minutes, 4 of which were spent assuring her, "This never happens" (it does every time). Our sailor makes best use of his thumb and hitches his way inside her for the last 3 minutes, all disappointment. How fitting for this hollowing and decay of a country: a transactional dance of fluids if lucky a spasm built on convenience, numbness, and disposable gratification, gotta come to get it.We all have our ways to disassociate.
Pulling out has never been the strong suit of the military, so after 6 weeks of silence, he receives a message request stating she is pregnant. Being of a Christian background, he does the "right thing". His indoctrination, the script of a dying institutional reflex because neither of them knows how to exist outside of compliance and easy gratification. In 3 months, for a second time, he finds himself hitching that girl, be it a different finger and a different, more disappointing way.
Six years of service, and they get divorced; she had always been depressed, and he had always been gay. They both somehow agree their child will need therapy. Talking is too slow, so they throw pills at the problem of a child being a child, outsourcing human empathy for pharmaceutical sunshine. Sickened with a smile customer made for life. The poor kid will never truly smile again. Nor will they.
Their bottom dollar is to sell family division and proscriptions as a logical relief, death now a slow way to fade. Piss poor leaders do just that to our communities, our depth, and dreams traded for breakable plastic accessories. They were made to last only a day but for thousands of years it will be in the dirt while we become dust. No one cares. They will pay for that.
I try not to let it put a smile on my face, so I think of sadder things, such as the dying of Americans dreams, the encouragement to destroy anything resembling life, finally suicide, if survived you become a passenger to what’s driving us insane. We cashed in our futures for a culture of managed decline, a nation of sickly cowards shocked when the nightmare became the reality. They live to be afraid.
People to porcelain, if they move they break. As for me, I will just keep on creating distance, letting someone else wonder why? Why a nation turned fools can’t seem to shake it, so they just shake pill containers to help with panic. Panic takes over when only a couple are left, dope sick for numbness they shake away.
Tradition and tragedy more so our tragedy tradition. We gave so much to the world, and it came back full swing. Permeating our homes and streets a quiet desperation pulling at hearts of the no longer strong. Could it be time? I’m not sure, but I won’t be bothered to find the time to fix the time we exist in. You do it.
