Gnomish Letter from Mars

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Published on: October 11, 2016

K.

How are you? It’s been way too long. I wish I had more to report, or something specific to say, but I really just wanted to say hello and I’ve done that, so now I’m just rambling, aimlessly wandering from one word to the next with no sense of where I’m going — so, you know, me being me.

I’m still writing, though not as much as I’d like. I’ve discovered a “place” that I go, not always for writing but probably when I’m enjoying myself the most, that is kind of an abstract perspective? A head space more than a place. Er. I’ve never really tried to describe this to anyone.
Somewhat awkward.
Anyway, if we consider thought itself to be the navigation of a rather labyrinthine structure of millions of connected pathways, then I have effectively arrived at a cul de sac, or dead end. LOL I knew I should have taken that left turn at Albuquerque! A hoofed and horned native with murder in his eyes greets me, and well, if you’re not armed with Bugs Bunny’s wit, you could be in some kind of trouble. It’s scary in here. And people may die. 😛 And I’ve gone a trifle off topic yet again.

The cul de sac of my mind; I find myself there no matter what life I choose, no matter where I live, no matter my income or other pragmatic features of existence. I find myself trapped in my own mind, only, more diabolical than hooves and horns, I’m alone. It’s not worse or better, it’s just that the devil, an adversary of any kind, gives you purpose, and being without one is safer, but also presents it’s own kinds of challenges, like avoiding creating monsters… wow. Off topic again.

None of this is sad or depressing 😛 . I found myself trapped in this place again and again, and I stopped trying to get out. I started to simply observe it with childlike fascination. I played in the oddly orange soil, enjoyed the earthy and rusty smells it gave off. I found a garden, untended and in dire need of attention, but clearly a place for things to grow. I looked deeper and found tiny gardeners, insects keeping up as best they could in a relatively barren expanse. I mean, the sky, the horizon? Goes on FOR ever, formless clouds of color limned against an eternity of dusty orange hued blue. All of that, yet, there are mountains, a garden, and an army of attendants. Empty but not. Empty, but full of waiting, brimming with expectation that the gardener will return. I look around at it, and begrudging realize I sorta like it. The limitless trap, this nebulous cul de sac, this dead-end that defeats escape with size alone? Maybe it’s not a prison? A boundless space; the perfect prison, or the universe itself? Does it even make a difference?

And I realized that I keep returning to it, because I’ve never actually left. My comings and goings have been illusions, delusions to help me cope with the trap — but the trap is me. This is my world. I am the gardener. I made myself the monster, and I’ve been running away ever since.

Sounds like a self-help thing! LOL. Maybe some of it is, I don’t know. Why share this? Well, it sounds strange to write it, out loud so to speak, but I think the delusional part, those illusory views of Michigan, California, friendships, finance, job security, contributing to society — you know, the quotidian dogma wielded as a rational measure of accomplishment and ultimately existence? Those delusions released from duty, recognized and eliminated without even the satisfaction of magic green smoke and witchy fingers? Yeah, when those schemas evaporate, I think I’ll be me, really me, and I’d like to try being me for a little while 😛 . Likely, I’m quite mad. Not in a harmful way, but you know, non compos mentis and all that — I may be difficult to reach in a meaningful way. I’m really not sure. Probably nothing changes except the glint in my eyes, but over time, I think it’s going to make a huge difference.

I really wish that asshole hadn’t published, Men from wherever, Women from somewhere else, for innumerable reasons that I can’t possible begin to discuss here. I hate the entire concept. It’s Earth, fucker, and we’re all human beings living here together, and it’s not always easy, especially because of the inherent contrasts among individuals, and no one needs you drumming up false gender associations, gumming up the already messy works! Screw that guy for capitalizing on people’s fears and confusion. Mostly, I hate the book because I’d refer to my place, this head space, as Mars, if he hadn’t ruined the name. #marsismine

-Gnomish Explorer
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