Another little glimpse into the world of this biographical novel – a biography of thoughts, feelings and observation; a snapshot in time.
53 and imploding
That’s why we had to make rules.
I’m quite in favour of most of the rules. They limit the things that the evil fuckers can do. You see, I use the word evil. We invented that to describe the vicious cruelty of a percentage of humanity. We imagined it as a cosmic battle between good and evil. It is not. It is merely life. It is a fundamental feature of humanity. We enjoy violence, pain and are excited by blood and death. We adore cruelty. Of course, most of us have blotted this out because we have been taught that these things are wrong. Only evil fuckers do these things because they are deranged. We are the good people. We believe in the rules. We do not want to be seen as evil fuckers and we do not even want to see ourselves as evil fuckers. The evil fuckers do these things. They have penetrated the restrictions and given vent to the feelings inside. They enjoy the power of being evil fuckers. They like the fear they engender. They get a buzz out of cruelty.
Bear baiting, cock fighting, dog fighting, bull fighting, gladiatorial fights and stoning to death are all cruel activities carried out by evil fuckers in the past or evil barbaric fuckers in uncivilised countries. Except these evil fuckers are or were considered ordinary people by everyone and themselves. Those cruel displays were eagerly visited by the masses of ordinary people. They sat and ate their equivalent of popcorn and oohed and aahed as the victims got ripped to pieces before their eyes. That’s real. Our civilised revulsion is a thin veneer covering a festering propensity towards violence.
There are no rules.
We make it up as we go.
We probably need the rules because deep down in our genes we are all evil fuckers.
I have to check down into myself to see if I can find the symptoms. I crane my neck at accidents.
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