The sharp, thick, skin pealing, white meat exposing, and brumal related cold piece of steel labeled as a Machete, that horror fantasy created character Jason used to animate the dull and ignorant life of the virgin, slut, jock, and drug induced kids used to make my eyes widen and lock in expression, while my warm blood pumped, boiled, and flowed in titillation. Sounds of voice boxes raised passed they’re limitations caused feelings of multiple thick steel hammer heads crashing on ear drums from the metaphorical constricted palms of body builders as if the myth of steroid influenced pills were becoming the opposite of reality TV, while exasperation poured out of they’re souls with nearby limited attention spans as their targeted enemy. Visuals once hidden during the yellow piss colored stained mattress and candy coated tongue with soda and ice cream only inspired diet days from youth were now becoming as normal as green grass, youthful internet ponderous consumption, and air seen in frosty weather. Yes, doing its best version of mocking the sun was once the job of this genre of entertainment as my eyes were guarded by thick black covered shades due to being too young to understand the bloodbath laid before me. Now, these shades were lifted and burned a permanent flame in my eyes which traveled upwards to my brain. The shift from virgin bright pink shade into a fading darkish pink color like 90’s kid show outfits worn by Power Ranger Kimberly, which most likely collects dust in the back of a movie studio was the perfect comparison afters years of viewing this genre. Death, in this sense as you can see was burning bright in Christmas light appealing fashion. Blinking was limited in function while brown pupils became substituted for flashing season lights. Death, murder, and blood in this glamorized state was fun. Fun because my distance from it all was caused by multiple rows filled people, movie screens, and the ability to exit stage left after it was all done. Little did I know or chose to know was that this party would come crashing down as my age moved forward in life. Life was simply a playground and death was only seen on a TV show.
A great piece of art can cause many emotions from the creator of the piece as well as its viewing audience. It can bring up debates, questions, thoughts, and observations of the world around them in a brand new light that they never once considered before. Not only because they simply refused to seek out this new direction in thought, but simply because their life before was limited in scope and seen their previous conditions as the only path they can take. Like when young and even sometimes older African Americans who say “White people music? I am not listening to that shit” when compared to the Rap/R&B without even giving it a solid chance. The art in this case for a quick moment is the movie “Usual Suspects”. The movie itself can be compared to a comfortable life. Just, in a much more smaller fraction time length wise. I wont spoil the ending for those who haven’t seen it but, the basis of it is the rug was pulled out from underneath me, and I’m sure for anyone who saw the movie in the 90’s. Twists and turns are a part of life but more so than not we get in this place of conformity mixed with stale bread comparisons of a scheduled life. Wake up, get dressed, work, talk, work, eat, work, go home, eat again, watch a TV show, then rest. Most of the time nothing really changes that course of our lives. That is, until a moment happens that rocks our world. A moment that, deep down as much as I hate yet still love in some way. It keeps me alert and shows that at any second a building can collapse, bombs can go off, once untouched celebrities can die, and children could be taken or murdered. Which brings me to place back in time in which I had lost two dogs. One my family had to give away, and another that was ran down by a car and left on the side of the curb like condom wrappers and liquor bottles. As much as we as people complain about a boring life it still gives us a sense of control. A sense that yes, I am bored beyond belief but at least I know why and can control the direction of this boat. When something like death occurs tho, the direction will change regardless of how much effort and control we pour into it. I was used to these two animals in my life and, when they were taken from me it didn’t sit right. Sure, toys, money, and other things up until then were taken from me but, as a kid it was much easier to get over. With this, it was not due to it being permanent. There was no turning the car back around to go and get my dog. I had no idea where she was. There was no second chance of bringing my second dog back to life. It was dead and gone. The bugs and dirt were already making its home on my dog as the blood that leaked had stained the concrete like kids chalk. Seeing a part of my life that was just there changed my views on death. Sure, I still could separate reality from fiction as far as entertainment goes but, it wasn’t the same dumb fun as before. Because now, what was on the TV and movie screens had now crawled out of the colorful box started siting next to me. It could happen to me. What did a dog do to piss off god? How can it if it knows not what it does?
My grandmother around the time when I was much younger had developed cancer in her bones. Her body was basically a long piece of cracked glass that could snap at any minute. My mother and aunts of course were broken and distraught over this. Tears flowed in tissues and clothing became stained with colorful makeup combinations as they clogged onto each others shoulders. Sounds of cries and breaking hearts collapsing into pieces unfortunately like my grandmother bones could be heard through phones, kitchens, living rooms, and alone in bedrooms as their bodies curled up on the edge of their beds. Yes, it was a heartbreaking time that I can only now place in perceptive with actual concern and worry at a much more mature age. Because back then, as my mother was dealing with plans to fly a plane out to see dying Grandmother with the rest of her sisters, my only concern was with how many gifts I was going to be receiving that Christmas. Yes, fucked up but true. As I stated before my concern with death was only in story lines in the beginning before my dogs met they’re end. But now, fast forward and its shifted. I bring up this story because now thoughts of other people I care about around me are getting older. Mother, father, aunts, etc. Yes, my cousins are around my age but, its just not the same. Its like leaving kids alone with no babysitter in the house while the adults head out for a very long trip. We are all adults but, its still feels empty. Or, will feel empty. I’m jumping the gun but, that doesn’t change the fact that it will happen. The arguments over teenage simplistic things that held no weight for the future now seem small in comparison to what they were before. Moments of youthful rebellion and ear plugged ears to block out rules heard from our older elders now make me look back and wish the Michael J. Fox movie franchise was real so I could enjoy hearing and seeing a more younger and alive version of my creators and helpers in my family. If not only to enjoy the fact for that moment that time and Will write-ups were long in the distance and far away from in my thoughts. As if my parents were superheros and nothing could stop them. But, that is and will always be fun in my head. Even as I write this it still hasn’t “hit” me yet. I see my family and friends enjoying themselves a lot more than I am. They seem to not worry about the same issues as I do and that causes a bit of envy I must admit. I see them engaged and having a almost care free attitude about life. Its like Neo from The Matrix movies. Did he make the right choice? I mean yes, the red pill gave him the knowledge about the world around him and it made him see the lies that were right in front of him the whole time but, what about the man that doesn’t think about it? You fast forward towards the last two movies and, Neo’s facial expression and demeanor seems one of lost, hopelessness, sadness, regret, etc. Keanu Reeves acting jokes to the side, the point I am trying to make is, is seeking to know everything about the world the right thing? Is seeking to know every movement and angle that could come your way make for a better living? Here I am writing about death while other people are most likely arguing about “Who wore it better” online or, who had the better album of last year and what they were going to this weekend. Things that yes are meaningless and trivial but, the feeling and expressions on they’re faces seem more happy and engaged than that of a man who is “The One”. “Ignorance is bliss” is a quote I thought was a inarticulate way of dealing with the fact that people were too scared to learn and strive to achieve more knowledge in life. Yet, as my age increases and my body creeks and i develop a love of being lethargic, I am starting to regret digging as deeply as I did down the rabbit hole.
Celebrity funerals always intrigued me because of the amount of fans and people that attend the event to pay they’re support and blessings for all of the great product the man or woman gave them all those years. Fans who have never met these people in a real life situation or, better yet have had the chance to know them pre-fame will show up and cry tears of blood for these stars had always enticed a curious thought from me. Not because of the cliche “Die hard fans have no life” or “These people helped change lives” but, more so from a comparison to other funerals. Mainly, of everyday common people. Yes, we may never achieve as many people to know our name like a celebrity can but, I am quite sure post-Facebook era everybody truly only ended up with 3 or 5 friends when its all said and done. Hell, Facebook friends isn’t even all its cracked up to be. I know people who have 1,000+ friends on Facebook yet I am very sure 1,000+ people will not be at they’re funeral or help them out in a do or die crisis. I bring this up because I have come to the realization that my time on this planet will not last forever and I wonder how many will be at my funeral. I was not Mr. popular in high school but, being in the same state for damn near all of my life has helped me build a lot of relationships with people. I am not saying all will remember me now but, a good amount would be hard press to forget me. Being a class clown and doing things like being suspended for stealing pencils (No lie) tends to leave a permanent mark on people. Now while I enjoy making people laugh and even damn near cry tears of joy, is that it? Is my legacy somewhat going to be memories of jokes, immature actions, and embarrassing stories of dressing up as Batman while walking down the street with my mother, despite the fact it was nowhere near Halloween (Again, no lie). The fact that my memories die with my family & friends as well as my impact on life is truly a joke in itself. As my time comes and I am on that hospital bed trying to get a ass shot of the young nurse helping me take a sponge bath (Please be a Puertorican. Yum) will I be happy after that? Will I just stare out the window and think “What if I had more time” thoughts? Its a daunting feeling as I continue to write and move forward in life towards a inevitable end and know there is a good chance my memory on this planet will be wiped out almost as if I never existed. As I said before death in my childhood days was just entertainment. Something I laughed, cried, cheered, and most of all enjoyed watching. But now, its reversed and I am not longer willing to pay money to see death as quickly as I once did. The video I am about to post does make the thoughts feel less scary and gives me a better insight on the matter but, I will not “feel” its impact until it really happens.
I can’t change the natural course of this life but I can better understand and brace myself better for it. I will leave you again with a video that has helped me see things in a more realistic way, and is one of the inspirations for not just this blog but, my whole philosophy on life as a whole.