Monday Evening


I am sorry I missed your call.  Or, more aptly, I am sorry I have missed the past few calls.

That is a lie.  Two lies. I did not miss your call. I simply didn’t answer. And, I am not sorry. That is something new, but something that you taught me. I no longer enjoy oral communication. It is unwieldy and inaccurate. I know you used to relish it, that connection. It is not true, and you have only been fooling yourself.  I’m wrapping up with the written word too. In fact, it is that communication that I am starting to shun.  All communication.

It is apparently a night for irony.

I’m not sure why you called, what you were expecting to find. I don’t know if you are on another Truth binge, hoping to preach of the Universe and Metaphysics. If so, please spare me. I haven’t even spoken with my mother or brother in ages – I have little patience for your ‘Truths’.

In fact, I think I have abandoned Truth altogether. Sure, from time to time I ponder my nature in this place, this illusory dimension of perception. Am I an Ego? An individual quanta of consciousness, or am I a wave on the sea of all that is?  But these thoughts are fleeing, passing remnants of vistas that, of old, carried import in my mind. No more.

I have surrendered to unconsciousness.  I have been beaten down by the collective ignorance, destruction, and selfishness of this place. This Truth that you pursue, or used to pursue, hinges on your ideals of an absolute, inner, and innate goodness – in effect, a hopeful myth. You hold to your dreams as the weak hold to Karmic retribution. Myth.

You can have these words, these vistas. Take back those dreams and ideals of perfect potential. I need them no more. I care for them no more. I am no longer the man you knew – too much has passed, to many dreams not realized, to many tastes of the cup of mortality. I have read the Truth written in Higgs’ implications. I am the very definition of insignificance, of ephemerally and impermanence. I have no soul, no legacy, no eternal nature.

I am not.

Do not call again.



2 responses to “Monday Evening

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Mick On Everything

Just a regular guy who is interested in everything

Wherever you go, there you are.

And here I am, Judith Clarke, writer.


Turning Tears & Laughter into Words

A Word From The Raven's Beak

Or whatever I came up with whilst eating cereal this morning

t h i n g s + f l e s h

lyrical essays on songwriting + other mysteries

Syl65's Blog

Poetry, creative writing and a desire to inspire..... Isaiah 40: 31 But they who wait upon the Lord will get new strength. They will rise up with wings like eagles. They will run and not get tired. They will walk and not become weak..

Words are mighty

poems, and poems again

Itty Bitty Journeys

Epic Tales of Tiny Adventures


literary fictions, flashes, fiascos

All That I Love

Because Writing Is Therapy

poetry by skull

The Musings of N. E. Skull


The heart has to be able to act against itself. (m.m.)

A Holistic Journey

Finding my way back out of motherhood -- while mothering

Experimental Fiction

"Come with me, and you'll be, in a world of pure imagination" Willy Wonka, 1971

Just breathe.

Life is beautiful. And there is so much to be grateful for.

Nathan Blixt

Art, Text, Code, Design

%d bloggers like this: