The New Starting Point

Too much time has passed since my last post, and too much has happened. Since my mother died back in February just a week after her 65th birthday and a week before my 41st, I haven’t been mentally stable. I fake it pretty well most of the time, and of course as the days and months pass it gets easier, but my anger, my hurt, and the worst of it, my depression comes to me in random waves, very much like the ocean.

I’m lethargic, ennui, envious, and the worst; self-loathing. “I should never have left, I should never have left”, like a ringing bell warning me when the invasion of emotions are at the gates. I think of the wall around the city of Xi’an. I rode a bike around that fortress from the Bell Tower to the Drum Tower, and all around the inner part of the ancient city. The emperors and warlords made great efforts to keep the invaders out, but every city eventually falls. Sometimes the damage is done internally. I think about how I’ve successfully built this wall, that bricks have been laid year after year, but the warring is happening within the walls because no matter how high or how thick your fortress you cannot keep death out.

I’d like to envision things a little bit differently. Instead of being immersed in the warring history of early Chinese empires or medieval religious crusades where life is brutal and the average human is left to suffer, I’d like to make this metaphor a little more Monty Python. It needs to be a lot more Monty Python, because the only way to get through this world amidst all the pain of it is to laugh. Really laugh. It’s all a huge joke.

The other day I had told someone that I was about 80% nihilist. Nihilists suck. It’s just a low-brow opinion, but they do. I know I may be offending the nihilists of the world, but it’s a grey world with no purpose in the land of nihilists which I will now call the land of Ne because I need to laugh at this grey purposeless world- it’s the only way to get through it. Only way for me. So this fortress I’ve built is now guarded by a French soldier with a ridiculous accent, and he’s blowing his nose at death and depression, he is farting in their general direction.

“Your mother was hamster and your father smelt of Elderberries!”

So where does all this nonsense leave me especially in regard to catching up on this blog and the history of my past eight months? In the present, radiating out to the future and the past like a supernova till the humor-over takes it all.

So. I’m here in Prague. Sitting at a temporary location preparing for a solo trip into Bohemia with my king and nights leading the way as we run away from the nihilistic grey-ness and search for this elusive holy grail filled with healing and happiness and nonsensical humor. I leave the French behind at the gate to taunt some more.

We used to laugh, my mother and I.
We used to laugh so much.
I should laugh.
It’s the least I can do.

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