99 Red Balloons

I think of you and let it go...

Am I a dark person for associating an apocalyptic song with the essence of childhood? Humans don't like to let things go. That's one of the reasons why we collect so much unnecessary shit in our lives- both physical and emotional. 

Sadly, I've had to let go of a few really good women this year. Some went silently and suddenly into that good night, while others went slowly enough to come to terms with their own mortality.

What is more difficult though? The frustrations of losing someone in your life or the frustrations of losing something in your life? We can quickly jump to the obvious answer of losing someone. But if that's true why do we care so damn little about human lives? I think we forget the impact mundane things have on us- home, car, job, family heirloom, important files disappeared into the etherspace. Losing any of those can send us into deep depressions that are difficult to get out of. You lose a sense of comfort, a way of life, an identity, a purpose, a routine. I think that's where a handful of humanity can fail to sympathize. Myself sometimes included. If drinking yourself into oblivion because you lost someone deeply close to you is reason for people to sympathize with you, but losing a job or some silly knickknack? Well, just pick yourself up by your bootstraps, put down the bottle, and keep trying...

Is that thought is largely due to the prior notion that someone dying is no fault of your own and the latter somehow being a fault of your own. At least from an observational point of view. Truth is, we live in an unpredictable world. Humans are filled with both complacency and paranoia. At the same time. We leave our homes expecting to arrive back safely while simultaneously being afraid of half a dozen other things going on in our sphere of involvement. 

When we see death, we see it as this inevitable darkness that can take us at any moment. An enemy. It will never be our fault when it comes. The concerns of the tangible however are another matter. Remorse over losing things just seems frivolous...

I've often asked myself why I enjoy stories of the apocalypse/dystopias. The answer to that is simply: I enjoy clean slates. A lot. I hate the idea of holding onto something that doesn't work just because I put a lot of time into it. I also love seeing new perspectives. One of my favorite graphic novels, Y:The Last Man, goes through the devastating aftermath of the world losing it's entire male population save for 1 man/idiot. What makes it great is that throughout the entire story we see him trying to get back to his girlfriend in Australia, which seems like a trivial goal, but the whole time trying to work through all these emotional stages of being the last living man on earth. Interesting perspective for an apocalypse story other than the usual bomb, asteroid, alien invasion, disease, etc. 

There's nothing like a good clean slate of an apocalypse to put things into perspective of what matters most. Provided you survive it. Even after all the bodies pile up we still have this raw and primal desire to live, for whatever reason. Everyone we know could be dead and yet we will still see a point to wiping our ass. 

Priorities.

it's just another Banksy...

it's just another Banksy...