A professor of mine used to say this. Frequently. It was as if it was the most important thing he was trying to convey to us.
I wasn’t fully sure what he was talking about at the time.
Twenty years later I might be suffering from a full garbage dump. The rubbish I was seeing was affecting me all along, but I couldn’t close my eyes. Garbage in.
Now it spews out of me as what some might call negativity, but in reality, it is actually really reality. For real. Garbage out.
My plight is synonymous with that of our planet. My body is filled with floating plastic and my brain is fogged up with smog. My mechanism for dealing with it is clogged. With dirty diapers and granola bar wrappers. Fatbergs of thought are log jamming my synapses.
So I wretch and spew as much of it as I can onto these virtual pages. Could it be therapeutic? To talk it out? To read all about it? To let you all know every dip shit I meet? To let you all know every crime on the street? To mock and sarc with an asm orgasm?
It’s useless. We’re small. Like ants on a hill. Like trillions of pointless paper bills. Burned up in the heat of infinite fire by a band of bandits; perpetual liars.
It’s enough to make us lie down and die. But wait, worldwide, there are others like us. Others who won’t sit at the back of a bus. Others who won’t fiddle and fuck and fuss with a cellphone when a human sits across from us. With products that cost an arm and a leg. Our cars are for driving, not giving us head. Our schools are for learning, not filling with lead.
Enough is enough. Enough is enough. Enough is enough.