Take Us As We Are

I always hoped that every falling of the addicts would have been considered as a genre unto itself, reminiscence of The Fall, as was written. “So he drove out the man; and he placed the salesmen at the east of the garden and the illusion of a sword which changed every way, to guard the way to the tree of life.”

What if I am not afraid of heights?

All of us are afraid to lose what we have, whether it would be our tortured body or fettered soul. But our fears leave us when we understand that it is impossible to lose anything that never was yours. After this understanding we would rather waste, even without a token of regret, what is not ours. That is a main cause that allows us to solve a courting problem of the evil in life.

It is not a bad thought that the evil transcends the good as much as the absurd transcends the reality in life, because not everyone dares to refuse mixing the absurd with reality during his keen disappointment. Maybe so, but I do think that the absurd will start to fade at the crucial moment and reality can’t help us to stay sane on the one-way white road.

Let’s say that I was able to interest someone in the theme. But, at any rate, one idea may be occurring to someone that an icon of the ready to fall still glistens in the morning sun on the high top and he can scold or regret the absurd upshot of an evincive falling.
Back off your jive. We are only at the beginning of the strange thoughts.

Maybe it is your turn in a last-in-first-out line at the dream shop for an ephemeral escape from your anguished body and soul. I can’t say. I can’t discern a hallmarking scar on your guise. Until you have been marked at the blurry waiting line of the dream shop, you can deride who has gone before you. There is no need to lift your eyebrows innocently. Anyhow, if there would be a chance, you could slip in and out while my nostrils were sipping the debris of dream to give a shape of reality in my mind.

Anyhow you are destined to be the assassins and would-be assassins, to throw down those, who do not resemble you, whether you want to do it or not. If to say less roughly, it is a very useful thing to throw a stone to the fallen. At first you would relieve your boredom. After all you would explain away your sham diffidence.

Let’s go.

So imagine the blighters writhing under the pain, in a cool perspiration of craving. Well. Do you consider them too weak to erect the happiness, and have they already overstayed fate’s welcome? Well. Are you in a firm belief that they are the scum of society and they had left a long trail of ruined life in a coward manner? Well. Perhaps you wish them to fall into oblivion as useless spattered spots that are distorting the image of the Creator.

As you like they will be crushed down instead of slaughtering.
“In the top of the Gateway were two tables on each side, on which the burnt offerings, sin offerings and guilt offerings were slaughtered”.

But sometimes some offerings may be fallen as allowable loss. It is your chance to satisfy your inferiority complex by enjoying the fall of one like you.

Well. Please, don’t rap a gavel for a while. You’d regret to have done it afterwards for you could pass over an enthralling falling. Only let the indicter choose a place for his lethal flying.
The dripping of illusion into the veins became a flow and the white silk sphere of an unblessed dormancy has replaced the muddy anxiety. There’ll be a time, in your tiring existence, when you’ll seem to reach the white roadway out by tottering with forged hovering flight. I may happen to know my last shelter that would be rolling down from any height.

But my anxious soul was still hesitating at the brink in the hope of empathy with the addiction of abandoned mortals. It’s her right to do. I have no intention to interrupt her inherent instinct of self-preservation, but after pondering for a while I realized that my body and brain could enjoy the irresponsible delirium as long as my soul was in a waiting apart.

“Hey, babe, don’t look so worried,” I knew that my soul was swaying behind the swish of the silk curtain, shivering under the apprehension to be raped again- not the exact words, but just close enough, “Do I look like a personage who would be remembered by mourners?”

“Maybe, but I am sure that your lifeless horrible sign will be used as an edifying for others. If you have luck it will be used in the night news.” She was not gloating, she only was conscious about the next shabby turn.

“Do you think that my body will be useful at least tomorrow?”
“I think it will be useful in an hour. ”
“You are very cruel.”
“Like you.”

My Very Reverend soul was right. He was the only person in my life who tolerated my freaks and who never thwarted with his sermons about the poignant lessons of my life.

I had created the presence of my soul in the image and likeness of an innocent pretty girl who was living intact – as long as I liked. It sounds like an author’s playing with a muse, a physically unimposing relation until the finding of betrayer.

But I was unable to be in platonic love for a long time. Later, I have re-portrayed her with thick strokes in my mind – a blond lady with seductive eyes and with suggestive smacks of red lips and with large bosoms. Though I hurt her pride, she didn’t have an alternative to my body in a due format. Don’t go down once even in mind, and make sure you’ll never fall once again in reality, so we were in discord about the fact of incest between my body and soul and her flashing silk body made me confident that our account will come soon.

“Please do something for me – give me a book.”
For a moment my senses seemed to have been restored to me.

“If you need it. I would like to see you having a liking for something reasonable.” So demurely she agreed to be tamed again, that a look at her eyes would make you believe in the missing of the destiny.

” I want to appear in the TV news as a lifeless sinner on the floor, but with an open book of algebra in my hand. It will be odd enough to find a dead drug addict with an algebra.”
The point is that I’ve never got on with mathematics. Like most pupils I stifled at the view of mathematical problems. It was a vain battle for sum in spite of the fact that I had struggled bravely by the sweat of my forehead. Every child remembers his first careful step to the numerical world under the encouraging smile of his parents.

” Look, if you have one apple and your brother gives you another one, how many apples will you have?” Solving the problem you were getting acquainted with the payoff as a sweet apple. Since then you have had a thought that the problem solving is as important in your life in general as it is in Mathematics. But only later you realize that only one apple is yours, for nothing will be given gratis in life.

That is why I consider figures as a type of a magical language and I see a concealed meaning behind every figure and I used to treat the Math problems as I think it suitable. It may be the main cause of my ignorance about the delusions in life. I didn’t like to reckon anything without a payoff.

Suddenly I felt that I ought to sum up of this muddle of male-female attachment. But, bent over the book, I did not dare to move very long.

“Do you have a grudge against the sum? May I think of you as still a boy? ” So naive was her attempt to tone down colors and hide herself behind my thought, that I was able to retrieve my muse in obscene view again, thereby I saved my time and energy of the boring courtship.

“No. But one day I could not solve a deliberately posed vital problem. How high might one jump to pick Adam’s apple off, if he was twenty years old and had had an unbearable longing for the first dream.”
” And what was your answer?”
” What will be the payoff?”
” And?”
” An apple from the tree of life. But the clever salesman of the dream shop had beguiled me saying that I had given a right answer though I was in a gloomy silence and didn’t see a sword in his back.”

I have peered into a randomly opened page of the given algebra. Wouldn’t any words be better than this sudden appeared problem – an object is dropped from the top of the Gateway Arc in St. Louis, which is 195 m high. How long does it take for the object to reach the ground if he has cried, “Follow me” before jumping?

Again the apple’s pleasant taste from my childhood has stuffed my feelings, and again I become eager for a payoff. But my brain was on the seesaw for silly onlookers. Again the fleeting hope of riddance arose and faded at once in my head.

“Please, solve this problem instead of me.”
“I just want to justify, in my mind, why you wish to avoid everything now when my being is as sinful as someone’s fidget about the opportunity to tread upon my crushed remains after falling.”
” What will be my payoff?” smirked my soul reminding me of my foible. “It will take you six seconds to reach the ground.”
“The fatal flight of fancy from the top of Gateway with me. But I don’t know how we are going to spend these six absurd instants? No matter, we will have a seventh instant to rest forever.”
“Thanks for the last torment.” So unusual was her response to my suggestion, that I felt an unbearable abhorrence to me in her eyes.

But sometimes it even excites.

” But it is a very long time for a deed. Someone had created the creators of the Gateway for six instant[j1]s. Since then he is in rest for a seven instant. ”

I started to lift up her silk veil and began to fill her flickering shadows with alluring forms. But colors blended, melted, and became almost invisible.

“I see you are again having a barbaric male intention.” So common was her conclusion, that it seemed she was ready for a marriage with all the bad of the world.

“Look, someone stares at us. Come and cuddle up to me.”
It is time to rap a gavel.

The first is the Outer world,
The second is the strange guy,
The third is the Big Apple,
The fourth is the delusive dream,
The fifth is the Depths of despair,
The sixth is the Eternal lies,
The only rest is the Gateway’s top.
Take us as we are.

July 14th, 2004 by