Symptoms for sale

Dear diary,

Altho I should’ve called it “2 experiments or 1, plus a tape”, I named this entry “Symptoms for sale” because I arose this morning with burning eyes and a headache, which I’m willing to sell to you. I’ll let them go for 378 euros—that includes both symptoms: it’s a package deal.

Plus my throat is so sore that I kept awaking, sixty-six times during the night, every time that I swallowed. This symptom can therefore be yours for 66 euros.

Obviously this ain’t gonna be a cute entry. And, to make matters worse, my mind is clogged with political thots—buzzing ideas about inequality and injustice. (For the mind is a tube, and thots are just gunk that clog it up.) As you know, in recent entries I’ve repeated my resolution to stop obsessing over politics; not because I believe that these things aren’t important—on the contrary, I think there’s nothing more crucial for humankind than to remedy our economic system, which, for the record, I believe is fundamentally evil and breeds evil through incentivizing evil; for “the love of money is the root of all evil” (1 Timothy 6:10), and our system is based on moneylove—but, as a member of the slave class, I am powerless to cause even the slightest change (this is an understatement); thus any interval spent conversing about politics is simply time wasted.

Our only hope is that some multi-billionaire becomes the buddha.

So you see my plight: I want to honor my intention to abandon all political hem-haw, but I know that this ain’t gonna happen unless it feels easy and fun to me; that’s why my superego has agreed to let my ego wade in the kiddie pool of political contemplation (a shallow section cordoned off from the public bath, reserved for mock-philosophers), so long as it counteracts its own musings by allowing them purposely to slouch wayward in some respect: let them sag, let them wilt . . .

Actually I have no idea what I want to do, what I can do, or what my self told itself it’s allowed to do; all I know is that I plan to start out wrong and end up wrong, just for the sake of half-measures.

Maybe think of what follows as the writer’s equivalent of a rodent chewing on a cable. You gotta file your teeth somehow, otherwise they’ll grow too long and you won’t be able to shut your mouth. Moreover, there’s the chance that you’ll break thru one of the cables that connects to God’s television. This might wake him up. The cord of the LORD. So here’s my experiment:

EXPERIMENT

Is it true that nobody cares? I often find myself saying that phrase, to explain why atrocious conditions continue to plague our world: Things never get changed for the better, because nobody cares.

No, I’m wrong about this – in fact, the opposite is the case: everyone cares. Doesn’t this ring true for you; or at least truer than the other hypothesis?

Every single person one meets proves thoughtful and concerned. They only lack complete awareness; so, if people hold views that seem uncaring, it’s only because they don’t know the full story – their knowledge is partial.

So aren’t the most “evil” people then the ones who push propaganda, misinformation, general falsehoods, and those who work hard to debase the education system, because they know better? – To this, I want to answer yes; but I assume that if I were to meet, say, a billionaire who uses his power and influence to keep the populace as ignorant as possible, I’d find him personally charming: I’d find not a drop of evil in him. I’d leave our dinner date concluding that it’s simply the billionaire’s mistaken religious views that cause him to think he’s doing good by trampling on the public’s welfare.

Then surely the heads of the religious institutions are the bad guys. But no, for when you research the development of any cult, locate its founder, and sit down for a televised interview with him and his concubines, you realize that this self-styled messiah is simply trying to organize his community in the healthiest fashion, and enjoying the maximum amount of personal pleasure along the way—and you note that all those who serve him do so willingly, having been spellbound by his charisma. During the course of your visit, you yourself even fall in love with him.

So, where, then, does all the corruption come from? We see it everywhere: it must have a source, the cruelty that permeates our modern dystopia. Whence warfare, starvation, homelessness?

In every case, we find there is a group making out like bandits on the side of aggression: In war, there are the warmongers, those who profit from bloody conflict. In the case of world hunger, we find corporations that pillage the lushest areas, then withhold distribution and charge exorbitantly for basic nourishment. And of course the banks pull the house out from under your feet. But look closer at any of these groups and you discover they’re comprised of individuals who are all very pleasant to sport with. So we cannot blame them for being part of something inhumane.

Yet every question I answer like this only leaves me more confused in an alternate way. For instance: If we cannot blame war criminals for the barbarities they have committed, then why is anyone imprisoned? The answer is that the convict borrowed money to get an education and then could not pay back his debt; and he lacks any elderly relatives whose Social Security checks the creditor may garnish. That’s a serious offence.

But aren’t the jailed individuals as lovely to dine with, to golf with, as the mercenaries who slaughter civilians nonchalantly, or the bankers and executives who perpetuate homelessness and starvation? The answer is no. Go ahead, try it for yourself: Attempt to talk to any person currently rotting in jail. You’ll find that he is a bore; that she is a dullard. They are simply no fun. They lack the charm of that cult leader, who let us spend the evening in his pleasure dome.

So there we have it. The problem’s solved: All evil stems from gentle-natured unsophisticates. For when you’re at once deferential and spontaneous, plus brilliant yet devoid of the requisite accreditation, you descend into poverty; soon you commit punishable offenses, and you end up in jail – right where you belong. If only you had been born to the established and affluent order: then your natural goodness would outshine any trace of evil that might be detected in your soul; that evil belongs to the group, anyway. The corporation handles all externalities.

END OF EXPERIMENT

I deem my experiment a failure. I don’t like how it concludes so abruptly. Part of the problem is that I’m trying to exhaust my entire creative drive in just one session. The results might’ve been more satisfying if I’d have continued to add to this quagmire for multiple days. Also, far more often, I should have allowed myself to veer into uncharted waters: I think the above text is best where it reveals the subject’s affection for the cult leader: I’d like to explore that further. And it would benefit from the use of proper names. It needs more human warmth. And, tho maybe I’m mistaken about this last point, I can’t imagine a writing that would not be improved by the addition of at least one vampire. I know that this current eon is dominated by vampire-themed compositions; for it’s the latest fad: every book on the bestseller list achieved its position solely by focusing on that ultra-popular concern; but this doesn’t mean that vampires aren’t objectively interesting. You can’t blame Jesus of Nazareth for the grand movement of peace and forgiveness that followed in his wake; for Jesus encouraged only military combat and witch-burning. And if you accept his blood, he becomes you. Now, who’s the vampire, & who’s the victim, here? For he shed his blood for you. If you were the victim, you’d be shedding your blood for him. Am I wrong about this? The timeline runs counter to tradition, in that the victim dies first and even becomes immortal before the vampire bites him! That’s why I just say no to sucking Christ’s blood. (“Just Say No” was an advertising campaign, part of the U.S. “War on Drugs”, prevalent during the 1980s and early ’90s, to discourage children from engaging in illegal drug use. The slogan was created and championed by First Lady Nancy Reagan during her husband Ronald’s presidency.) (My boss is also named Ronald.) If you follow your nature, and your nature is evil, you perpetuate evil. Like I said above, the only hope for 99% of these mortals is that one of us gods decides NOT to sink our fangs into the savior. If we deny ourselves what is rightfully ours—the Christian sacrifice—we abrogate the law that dooms all souls to destitution. Why wouldn’t I want to be the lone deity who turned his back on his class and spilled the riches of eternity clock·time·ward? They’d be so thankful, the newly freed vassals, that they’d conjure up monotheism in my honor. They’d expunge all praise, and virtually every mention, of any other vampire from their holy book.

God standeth in the congregation of the mighty;
     he judgeth among the gods. . . .
I have said, Ye are gods; and all of you are
     children of the most High.
But ye shall die like men, and fall like one of the
     princes. (Psalm 82:1;6-7)

For the LORD is a great God, and a great King
     above all gods. (Psalm 95:3)

For all the gods of the nations are idols:
     but the LORD made the heavens. (Psalm 96:5)

Sorry about all this. It seems that I tried to amend the failure of my first experiment by lengthening out a second one disguised as a postface. But I always say: It’s time to quit, when you find yourself quoting the Bible. Ya gotta know when to fold ’em – your hand of cards, that is; for creative writing is exactly like poker (a card game played by a small group of people who bet on the value of the hands dealt to them): You wager ALL – money, possessions, earthly riches: your entire legacy; even your posthumous regard – and you always lose. So, now, folding officially, I leave you with Matthew 19:20-21. And I’ll put a rap tape in the postscript.

The young man said, “All of God’s commandments have I kept from my youth up: Am I not perfect?”

Jesus answered him, “One thing yet thou lackest: Go and gamble away whatsoever thou hast, and join the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven.”

P.S.

Below is a rap demo album that I recorded in 2004. I planned to share its tracks one-by-one, but after uploading only a few, I realize that the rest are all filler, and thus not worth spotlighting. They lose too much by removing them from the full album. Plus they’re oddly harsh and abrasive—I guess the title enticed me to make most of the songs kind of annoying. So instead of thinking of this project as a ten-track album, I now look at it as one big love song in ten parts. Like a piece of classical music in multiple movements. Except it’s not music: it’s rap. Rap is music only in the way that a cello solo is a political speech. Does that make sense? OK, then here’s my coarse ten-point lecture, 30% of which is passable:

(I’ll copy the lyrics below; also here are cover pics – click to enlarge)

front cover

back cover

inside cover

YouTube above, Bandcamp below; pick your poison.

LYRICS:

Happy Songs of Love
by MCB (Bryan Ray)

1.
Just Like Wings

My name is MCB the dove
I am a happy song of love
I am a cloud that’s floating round
Just like a doggone burial mound
I have a heart that’s in my throat
Bubbling up and out the moat
Popping in midair like a bubble
MCB is a body double
I like to sing about happy things
I love positioning kids in swings
I like to eat French fries and sauce
I love you like I love my boss

That’s my name MCB
Fly in the sky just like wings

2.
Love Song Two

Here is my happy song of love
I’ll be right there and there’s the rub
I am a good rapper happy song
While my friend plays guitar along
It is fun to make rap with friends
That’s how you know I’m in my Benz
The bass is booming the speakers pound
I like to rap all upside-down
Come on now run thru the meadow
Placing a treadmill in your ghetto
I like to stop on the path abruptly
Smelling the flowers nice and musty
Now I’m so happy this song is lovely
Driving around in my two-tone buggy

3.
Chase the Deer

Deep in the forest filled with fear
MCB likes to chase the deer
Calling out for some help I’m lost
Then I produced an albatross
Tho I promptly destroyed its life
I only did what I thought was right
Happy tape all filled with love
MCB is a Chinese rug
I want to give you all a gift
No it’s not a hairy lip
It is love the best emotion
Out on the shore of the Arctic Ocean

My rap name is MCB
I like to chase the deer
Deep in the forest come help me please
I’m filled with fear

4.
Oh the Wind is Blowing and the Air is Cool

Oh the wind is blowing and the air is cool
I hope that I don’t get killed at school
Cause this is my love tape and that would be bad
After all to be smashed with aluminum bat
I’m MCB I’m in love with you
Cause I want to buy you a green canoe
With a trolling motor and a fish house on it
Look at me puckering beneath my bonnet

5.
Chase the Deer Again

Now I’m so happy this song is lovely
Driving around in my two-tone buggy
I like to give people compliments
I like your Iran-Contra fence
My name’s Bryan I’ll be your rapper
Take your phones off and slack your grabbers
I like to rap to the funky beat
Specially when it’s sounding sweet
Like this beat that we made
Putting guitars that really play
Listen close to the love guitars
Aren’t they special sure they are

My rap name is MCB
I like to chase the deer
Deep in the forest help me please
I’m filled with fear

6.
Love Song Six

I might as well face it I’m going loopy
Too much mercury in my tuna
Boy this tape is filled with love
There is naught I’m deprived of
Doing a tap dance changing to Batman
Breaking my branch and filling the sap pan
I love everything kissing you
I’m MCB with fancy shoes
Oh I bestride the waterfall
My awkward gait knocks towers down
I am the platonic primeval primitive perfumed pompadour
Riding a bronco-saur

7.
Dangerously in Love

I’m MCB the troubadour flute player
Playing my flute beneath boot-length hair
And I’m rapping away on the beat that’s gay
And I’m off on my love tape far away
In the cloud totally naked like Cupid
Flying around with nice arrows I shooted
Now I force people to love each other
While I alchemize perfume and turn it to blubber
I’m the rap love singer rapping so sweet
Rap love singer on the guitar beat
Now I’m dangerously in love
Extract my plug now I’m eating a bug
Hi my name’s Bryan and I’m glad you came
I’ve been waiting out here for you in the rain
Underneath this mushroom with my pet cricket
That is delicious what’d you put in that biscuit

Dangerously in love
MCB is a pretty dove
Flying around up in the sky
Then he drops down then he dies

8.
Intermission

MCB the silly jokester tramp
This slamming guitar beat is giving me cramps
Now I’m making a pie that is filled with love
And I’m putting a live dove inside face-up
A terrible outrage that’s making you cry
Cuz 1000 degrees is too hot for a pie
This tape is highly vulgar immoral
That story I just told of that squirrel

9.
A Sweet Satisfaction of Judgment

OK now let’s love each other
Deep in the grotto in the leaves I’m covered
Roll around on the ground and I’m tasting the dirt
All the animals come near and think I’m berserk
So then I start dreaming that I fly on a cherub
With a great cloud of darkness and thunderbolt arrows
Hark now what’s that pleasant odor
I notice my earth flesh is starting to smolder
This is a sweet satisfaction of judgment
Cosmic usurer punishing cozeners

10.
Soccer Locket (Fangs of Death)

MCB continue your loving
OK I’m opposite of mugging
Instead of snatching your purse from you
I’m giving you this purse I just bought new
I’m MCB the nice happy person
On the guitar beat with rapping burnin’
Kissing you so much you’re getting angry
But look at this special locket that’s dangling
Yes it’s a gift that I’m giving to you
In addition to the purse that I bought that’s new
This locket is the image of a gold soccer ball
And I bought it for you when I was out at the mall
And the soccer locket breaks in two half parts
So that I can wear one; it is close to my heart
Simultaneously you can wear your half too
So that we can be soulmates and best friends dude

I’m the rabid wolf piercing with fangs of death

---

A NOTE FROM THE RAPPER: I Bryan do hereby pledge to continue uploading my old rap demos at Bandcamp & YouTube (I still have a half-empty dustbin of cassettes that I need to archive), because I understand that my artistic output constitutes important evidence, which shall aid futurity’s alien historians in determining what went wrong with humankind.