Modern Raw Catharsis
What about to write. To sound funny and clever. Who cares? Why this fucking quest of chasing the right pitch to be published? It’s all nonsense and yet, we keep going like the bureaucrats do with their death language, deadlines, hierarchy and unnamed jobs that only they can understand. “I’m an intelligent business developer”. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Who cares? The universe doesn’t give a shit about this, about us and our petty desires. The earth can’t even complain about the eternal movement without a single pause. She doesn’t care either about our petty languages, they already do too much harm.
I can’t come up with a story. Tom meets Jessica… tedious. Romance is boring with all respect to those who value it. I do find interesting the social mojo of every tale. Tom is an asshole that plays golf at midday with his gang, who are equally assholes as he is. He works at an equity fund, dealing with more screens than a pub, spreadsheets, eternal meetings and emails the whole day; wearing a suit and tie from Monday to Thursday, but on Friday, “jeans day” allows him to wear the pink polo that his mom got him on his birthday. What a dull life.
Jessica on the other hand is a bartender at the nightclub where Tom goes to get knocked out with hard alcohol and hard substances, mostly ecstasies and cocaine. She has to do this job to pay for her studies in political science to have a deep understanding of the social inequality of the country. Perhaps, deep in her, there’s this eager desire to become a president coming from a poor background. The first real woman president in the country because the others praise the damn patriarchy. She has to take the bus for one hour to one stop, then wait for about 40 minutes with luck for the next one that’s going to drive her around another 40 minutes with another extreme chance to her neighborhood. Every wait is a cosmology of street stereotypes of prostitutes, “wanna-be” gangsters, drunks and completely-out-of-their-senses drug addicts, plus the luxury building’s guardians that are allowed to change their shift and one or two maids. It’s just too real to romanticize this.
Who the fuck will care about another “Romeo & Juliette” story where inequality is in the center of it? There’s nothing else new to write about. Not even going back in centuries when medieval times offer us these dungeons and dragons scenarios, where knights are fighting every chapter with English, Saxons, French, Ottomans; conquering half of the world; and having the shitty dream to go to India like Alexander did and died… There's always a princess to save, a kingdom to create, or a family to destroy because their upbringing is not blue enough… the eyes are shutting down just with the fact of writing about it.
I can’t come up with a story. I jump into my damn phone to scroll down social media full of hyperbolized news and sports clips or women that sell their bodies for likes, comments and who knows what other bullshit. I can’t even think about a story to uplift a gender, mine, hers, theirs... That’s not my place; who the fuck am I to talk about gender? I leave the floor to those who really have something to say, to speak up against oppression. I’m just too tired of fighting and not well-educated enough to write or I’m too rebellious to accept a gender as another authority in my mind. I can only bear myself and sometimes it's overwhelming to the point that I want to kill it. Not suicide, but just to kill the self and its jacking unintelligent thoughts about everything. It’s so embarrassing when it wants to contribute and sound funny to discussions with the poor outcome of being simply ignored.
What about to write then? The world and its apocalyptic turmoil are heading to extinction with leaders that are schooled to steal. They all are Toms, completely assholes stealing the honest work of the Jessicas and celebrating in the name of the fucking development and justice. In fact, they just do it because they are all mommy and daddy’s little boys and girls, never had a struggle, never suffered, except when the power is off due to some modern renovation for their shiny shitty dwelling
