Category: Weekly state (Page 4 of 31)

A digital barrier to my food stall, sabotage?

While all good forces are employed to fix the alley to my delicious dishes, I am patiently roaming the sky.

I am in between worlds, somewhere at 30,000 feet. Big metal tubes full of people are passing me by.

Glorious moment since writing these few lines in utter despair to be separated from you, my dear reader. Further, I was disconnected from my food stall, the things that gives reason to so many outbursts and in the end, gives reason to my existence.

But don’t you worry. I am working on the analog menu, something to behold. For you, to hold in your hand. Fondly, hopefully, to remember our time together.

I missed you.

You got a minute?

This is not a threat. Although what follows after this question usually does not entail the best of news. While I chew on some thoughts I am once again pondering my favorite concept – time.

The Bretton-Woods system that truly is the gold standard, the currency that is the only constant. Hardly ever inflated. Don’t trust the capitalists and the propaganda of accumulating paper with numbers on it.

True currency is time. While I have the luxury of not participating in this system as a metaphysical observer, I nonetheless cannot escape the concept. I am not moving within time, I am still ruled by it. And these weeks, I am also paying.

All the good things in life only get better with time. Cheese gets older, deeper in flavour. People become mature, experienced and ideally wiser (if you are lucky). I guess this is the gift of reflection.

What would happen if we could skip the line, just like we do in the capitalist world? What if we could pay instantly to become moldy? To become mature? To be as ripe as a good cheddar, spitting knowledge left and right? A sad world, no ups and downs, tragedy and happiness, obliterated. Boring, cheap.

Romance and passion, blown to dust. No anticipation, no waiting for the resolution of a frustrating situation. Becoming friends with your suffering can be relieving, fulfilment of your wishes in the darkest hour, godly.

These weeks, I am paying. Not to skip the line, but to get that sweet experience, the resolution, perhaps even wisdom. I pay with time, I can feel it. What I am investing in, I don’t even know yet. But surely enough, I’ve been spending time, pondering, wondering how and why. It’s been a while.

So, got a minute for me?

Is it the winds of change gently blowing in my face or someone farting in my general direction?

Naive I look up in the sky and expect answers and signs. Some people see things up there, I envy them. I have taken to believe in things I see. Idiotic?

I take things seriously that have no inherent importance and vice versa. That is to say, this weekly state is – and here I apologise to you my dear reader – of no importance. But seriously written by me.

Oh how it warms my heart to be seriously childish, sternly playful, concentrated on the silliness of life.

So often I try. To follow the instructions of the manual to living. Only to find out that a couple of screws are missing. And so life continues, wonky as a coffee table in the centre of some metropolis. Yet, people accept the wonky table, similar to me accepting that apparently everyone got a different manual.

By this point, you will have noticed that this weekly state follows no order, no bigger theme. It has no importance to world history, is that not a relief?

If you haven’t been silly this week, go on, start laughing. Giggle or snort, whatever tickles you internally. From feeling stupid because you force yourself to a genuine laughter. That is silliness and I am here for it. At least on this late Sunday.

Before my head disappears in the clouds I will blow some smoke for the illusion of disappearing.

I am waiting in my carton, amongst equals but somehow special. Lust has brought us here, desire will deliver us to our final destination. I am a product of nature, yet unhealthy. At some point, I will disappear completely (luckily?).

Yet here I am, in your hands. It is up to you to pursue this habit.

It makes no sense but oh the sensation is pleasant. There’s no reason, it’s pure nonsense. Yet somehow we meet again and again.

For whatever reason you have brought me here, in this very moment it does not matter. Perhaps it’s what’s supposed to happen. Perhaps it is the culture. Maybe desire? Sadness? Peer pressure?

We will not find out, you and me.

I might just be a cigarette, but is our encounter not emblematic for something larger? Am I just delusional, making myself feel special among the thousands beside me?

Will you go through with it?

I am devouring moldy cheese and no one can stop me.

While the cheese slowly untangles the endorphins I contemplate whether the longing for something attainable is more rewarding that the yearning for things never to be reached. As arrogant organisms on earth, humans have an unhealthy appetite for more, notwithstanding already being pampered.

Nutrition, worth in any sense, position. MORE.

As they do, Germans have expressed this sentiment and actively acknowledged the: seemingly intrinsic nature of humankind. Sehnsucht – the addiction to longing – yearning.

Shouldn’t they be taught a lesson by yearning for the unattainable?

Truly yearning for something involves the tragedy of not being able to achieve it. Yearning is a lesson in patience, in devotion and ultimately, acceptance.

While I am slowly being numbed by the unhealthy amounts of moldy cheese in my stomach I being to fall into a coma, a state of numbness that is a consequence of the fulfilment of my longing. No longing anymore, for the cheese, just a state of lethargy. Devoid of emotions I rethink why I was eating so much cheese.

The emotions that come and go with yearning are never the same, but always intense. Contemplating what could have happened, yearning for the moment that never was and most likely never will be. It hits, always intense but never the same.

So while my longing for cheese led me to this state of immobility, I continue to yearn. For the big things, the noble and tragic things. The small ideas and the big emotions. The alternate realities, the things I am not, the lightness of my being that sparkles somewhere.

Perhaps I should get some more cheese. I mean, who will stop me?