“An Other-Worldy Airiness”

Remember what it was like to try to contact a friend, relative or loved one by phone and their line was busy?

Probably not, unless you’re over the age of 40, and then it’s just a laughable remembrance of the days when old farts who are now your parents or some weird relative, were the standard.

But it’s really not much different now – it’s just that “busy signals” are sent differently in this uber cool, fantastically dumb era bending the knee to those who don’t know… a blessed thing.

You know what it’s like to suffer modern day busy signals:

You want instant acknowledgement from your fabulous friends that the guy/girl/other you just met at some public embarrassment called a bar, and after an hour of deep intellectual conversation, where you looked into each others eyes, acknowledged that you both love yoga, wearing pajama’s to the grocery store, mimosa’s at Sunday brunch after a Saturday night of binge drinking, pot smoking and doing the town with other disinterested fabulous friends doing stupid things – you decide to hook up.

Of course, what other sound conclusion could you come to? But just rolling in dirty bed sheets with someone from somewhere isn’t satisfaction enough. You want high-fives and instant texts congratulating you on your wisdom. You text those disinterested fabulous friends of your magnificent accomplishment. Maybe a solo text comes back with a “Woo-Hoo”, and other than that, it’s crickets – the modern day busy signal.

Life is such a bummer in the modern era.

And it’s not just the younger generation who experience the modern day busy signals. The apathetic yawn from the inglorious farts of the hip, the media, the criminals in government would like you to believe you can’t exist outside their inner sanctum of stupid things:

Making a connection of significance with your co-workers, boss, their boss, the VP, or the pigeons who frequent the parking lot of the hideously ugly structure you spend most of your working life at is a convoluted mess of dealing with personalities that one would expect to only find in sanitariums long since extinguished that provided shelter and lots of chemicals for those who found it challenging dealing with the “normal” that society demanded they participate in. But the sane are those outside the sanitariums of today – the sanitariums of the modern era are nothing more than the collection of idiots  we witness each day telling us what to think, who to hate and that there isn’t a better way.

Middle-age tantrums of deranged bosses who somewhere along the way had a flash of a thought that they possessed an inkling of intelligence, wit, wisdom, business acumen and basic business organizational skills – who fantasized into reality a bad dream that they once had and now, all who might have the displeasure of encountering their singular nuttiness – you find yourself caught in their praying mantis trap of acknowledging their peculiar stench of insanity. But you must go along to get along, and rather than telling them upon the first encounter you had with them that they are bat-shit crazy, you choose to quiet your inner voice of sanity in order to hold on to your job of doing XYZ so that you can continue to acquire more barrels of XYZ junk.

Then, as if it’s not enough that you weren’t given kudos for the choices you made to bed strangers when you were dimwitted and inexperienced – that you didn’t tell the disgustingly ill-kept managers over you to drop dead… that you weren’t slapped with promotions and higher paying wages so that more of your hard earned dollars could be taxed and sent to a corrupt government for their sickening activities, you’re faced with a busy signal from shit-face degenerates who won’t let you into their club.

And as you advance in age, joy of joys – it’s “your time”.  Time to trust shyster doctors with their referrals to other shysters doctors to ward off whatever illness, disease, or sickness they “think” you might have.

Don’t worry if you don’t know what might being ailing you – they do. And if they don’t – lucky you – it’s a series of tests to determine what more tests might be needed to determine what pharmaceutical poison they can drop in your Halloween bag of goodies they’ve prepared for you – and of course, these Halloween treats aren’t free. You get to pay for them…over and over and over again.

It’s one continual busy signal we each experience trying to tell the world we fit in, attempting to gain acceptance into the inner sanctum of the deliriousness of lost souls. For what? A high-five emoji, hands applauding, a smiley face or the modern day busy signal of hearing crickets – far other meaningful endeavors await each of us if we could but stop for a moment and listen to our own inner voice.

You don’t need their approval to be something different than the good, little, obedient and compliant drone they want you to be. You are much more than what they lead you to think you are.

“To become aware of the possibility of the search is to be onto something. Not to be onto something is to be in despair.” ~ Walker Percy


Tonight’s musical offering:

As a commentator on this video described the following work of Bach“it has an otherworldly airiness to it. It feeds and nurtures an injured soul that’s been battered by life’s slings.”


Johann Sebastian Bach – Cantata BWV 1 “Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern” (How beautifully shines the morning star) ~ From the protestant church Trogen in Switzerland, Choir and Orchestra of the J. S. Bach Foundation –  Rudolf Lutz – conductor

Photo credit: http://www.unsplash.com/@quinoal

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