There are many reasons for my quiescence but what I am fascinated to nowadays is that I marvel at stupidity. I am growing older each day but that doesn’t pertain to any form of melancholy or wisdom or lunacy or idiocy. However, I am not just dormant physically but my cognition has been automated to engage in redundant and void thoughts. I used to wonder how people could be so laid off and not do a thing but now that I am doing the same nowadays, implicates how erroneously judgemental I was. It’s like the sole purpose of my life is to marvel at my own indolence. Lately, I have been stupefied to have found what such habituated bouts of lassitude can give rise to. It’s an epiphany.
Having commenced monologue at a tender age, I have been feeling that it’s been burgeoning for some time now with a whole new pace. Suddenly, I am feeling a new kind of security. I am the new epitome of confidence to myself. The buoyancy is soaring. The only person I compete with is myself as it is well established that we humans are prone to competition in different walks of life. So insecure are we that we need to win such competitions to assert our dominance over ourselves. Now that I have a new idol, my anxiety has assuaged and I truly feel like a free bird. We all assert that the whole concept of being free was an illusion. Well, that’s what I thought until now. My laziness has transcended me into a whole new level which has given rise to a thought, that, how meticulous we are is directly proportional to how lazy we are. I assert that is an aphorism. And be it so!
I feel free. If only Rousseau could sense my freedom.
I sense great undertakings.
I revel in my own frivolity.
I feel like a maverick. Deep inside I know I am not. But it seems I can deceive myself to feel anything. Doctor Hannibal Lecter would without doubt diagnose me with Empathy Disorder.
I feel I can wrestle with Papa Hemingway.
I think I can win tackles like the great Maldini.
I have begun to love the world which I thought I so much abhorred.
I love more than I hate.
I feel like god.
“You pigs, you. You rut like pigs, is all. You got the most in you, and you use the least. You hear me, you? Got a million in you and spend pennies. Got a genius in you and think crazies. Got a heart in you and feel empties. All a you. Every you…’
Take a war to make you spend. Take a jam to make you think. Take a challenge to make you great. Rest of the time you sit around lazy, you. Pigs, you! All right, God damn you! I challenge you, me. Die or live and be great. Blow yourselves to Christ gone or come and find me, Gully Foyle, and I make you men. I make you great. I give you the stars.”
Alfred Bester: The Stars My Destination