Of Gods who would be men
May. 14th, 2021 11:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
joegodaI'm going to put this here, to remind me of what I thought tonight.
*He woke up on a Sunday morning. This wasn't unusual, because he generally work up every morning, but this particular Sunday morning he woke up remembering.
This in itself is not that amazing of a feat. Many people do this morning remembering such as, 'Did I let the cat in?' 'I wonder if he/she/it/them are available for tea?' or 'Oh my god, it's mom's birthday!'
But not him, not on this Sunday. Cats and tea and mom's birthday, while vitally important, were not the sort of thing he was remembering. He was remembering EveryTHING, with a capital e followed by a capital thing.
You see, he was a human being and for the last few decades he had made that sort of a choice. To be a human being. He made this choice because for so long he had not been, exactly, a human being because... well, that's really what this story is about.
Regardless of that long and sordid tale, which, dear reader, we will get to anon, he made this choice because when he wasn't, exactly, a human being, he had suffered the thousand (and more) shocks that mortal flesh is heir to. And he grew tired of it all.
The shocks were tiresome, not the mortality, because mortality is a thing that can be debated. Not with me, because this isn't my story. Debate with me and you'll get a blank stare from a page that doesn't care. Or stare. It just sits there, waiting patiently for you to do something. Like read on.
He grew tired of all this humanity because he was living in it, but not living of it, if you see what I mean. He was, in fact, lonely, way back then, and this was even before he made the choice. He was not just lonely, he was alone.
Oddly, he thought this was what he wanted. He thought this was right and the way he was supposed to be. To be alone. He had his reasons for believing this, and that is also part of the story.
The lonely part was what surprised him. After a very long time, some might say centuries, but then who's counting, this lonely snuck up on him one day and bit him in his virtual but not literal nether region.
It was triggered because one of his siblings, also a long lifer, showed up on his door step with the news that he was dying. It wasn't a good death, either, like going in your sleep or by living fast and leaving a beautiful corpse. His sibling was neither fast nor beautiful, but there you have it. He was just dying. Well... not just.
His sibling had contracted cancer. I will not dignify that word with a capital anything. It's a nasty thing and should be eradicated, like the petulance it is.
You see, in the world, people move around. They don't always move around in logic or in good sense. Sometimes they just move. His sibling, his youngest sibling, had made the choice to move around and landed in a place that had a high tension power line tower right next to the house he bought.
While there may not be much to support the theory that large amounts of magnetic energy pulsing through your body causes cancer, how could it have no effect?
It's possible that living under high tension power lines might just give you superpowers. It's possible that it might just light up your mind and make you a super genius. It's just possible as well that it's not something that will do your cells any good.
Anyway.. cancer. Youngest sibling. His baby brother, who was older than he should have been, had he also been exactly human, but still... baby brother. And dying.
Denial set in, and he was determined to make sure that his brother did not die. How, one might ask? Doctors had diagnosed it. Large cell carcinoma, in his lungs. Metastasized to other parts and he was given a year, maybe less, to have some fun and live life to it's fullest.
This man, not wanting to accept that his baby brother was actually dying of a malignancy that should have already been cured, did what he had done for years. He stole the cancer from his brother.
Yes, it's a thing. Have you ever said to a friend, 'If I could take your pain, I would'? That was one of the gifts that this man had. He could take your pain. He could take your illness. He could draw that illness into his own body, knowing that, in a foreign environment, the pain, the illness would not find the support system it expected and would evaporate. It was something he had done many times over the years.
Granted, it would give him headaches, chills, fevers, all sorts of short lived inconveniences. But these were things that he knew would pass. Any sort of injury that had befallen him would pass, because he had time. Lots and lots of time, and there wasn't much he could outlast.
It turned out cancer, that bastard, was one of those things that he could not out last. When his brother found out what had been done, such a fight broke out, it shook the heavens. When a Mariachi band tells you to keep it down, you know you are being far too loud.
Baby brother made the man put it back. Not only put the cancer back, but promise to not, under any circumstances, do it again. Not only not do it again, but promise to live his life adventurously, as if it was his last day on earth.
So, given that ultimatum by his dying baby brother, the man promised all of it. He would stand by and watch his brother die and he would get out and be adventurous. You know. Leave his tiny 600 square foot apartment and do things that many people wouldn't do.
We're not talking about alligator wrestling, because everyone knows that alligators cheat. And we're not talking about climbing Mount Everest because Everest is freaking cold. We're just talking about doing things. Travel. Meet People. See things. The sort of adventure that anyone can do, if they leave their tiny 600 square foot apartment.
It took a year and six months.
It was an adventurous year and three months.
Three months before his brother died, his baby brother, his youngest sibling, a man who was a gentle soul and thought the best of everyone, took to bed and never rose again.
And so, after that sort of thing, which can change a person, by the way, and make no mistake, this man was a person, regardless of him being who and what he was, which was not, exactly, human, he left his tiny 600 square foot apartment and started to make friends and go places and do and see.
Some of these friends were ready made. It happens as one travels down the road of life. It's not as if people stick to one like rocks in the shoe or lint on the jacket or that stupid dandelion fuzz that gets in your hair and refuses to ever wash out.
It is more like there are people who end up walking along the path with you. Perhaps not the same path, but that path right next to yours. Different bumps, different rocks, same sky, same planet. And sometimes conversations strike up. Sometimes laughter exudes. Sometimes bonds are formed and sometimes bonds are broken. Still and all, there are those people who, for a time, share a direction and a distance. These are friends. Long running friends.
And if you're very lucky, these friends pretty much ignore that you are a weirdo who lives in a tiny 600 square foot apartment, who occasionally talks as if he's lived for centuries, has total strangers walk up to him and strike up conversations for no apparent reason other than he exists, and has memories and knowledge of which he has no explanation of how he gained those memories or knowledge. These are the sort of long term friends to hold onto.
It was on a long night that he took a leap of faith and put his profile on a dating site. Yes, yes... don't judge. It's a thing. People do it. We are all just trying to make it here, right?
As it happens, one night, he got a nibble. Someone found his babble about quantum physics amusing and far different that other profiles that made promises of what they would do to you. His profile was more of the "Hey. I'm alone and I'd like to have someone to go traveling with. That's all. No promises." type. Honesty is always the best policy.
He got this nibble. This nibble turned into a chat. The chat turned into date and the date turned into a marriage.
Yes! Just like that. It took months, because, you see, this man had no earthly clue about how people really are or how he was supposed to be, so he was just himself and that seemed to be fine.
She felt he was a bit rough around the edges, but that can always be fixed, right? Marriage is all about fixing the men. Oh and shopping. It's about shopping. And arguments. Oh, and a million billion gazillion other things that happens when you put two universes in a cage match and let the rumble begin. It's not always pretty. It's not always glamorous. It's not even always cookies and cream. But it's not boring. And it's certainly adventurous.
He fell in love. No, that's not quite correct. The reason it isn't correct is because he doesn't feel that 'in love' sort of thing. Being 'in love' is a selfish thing. Everything revolves around the person who is 'in love'. It is all about them. Really, it is.
He loved. And when he loved, he LOVED. It's not a thing that is negotiable. It's an acceptance, full on pedal to the metal, driving in the dark with your eyes closed, no, I've never tried this before but what the heck you only live once... or twice or more but who's counting sort of thing.
So, this is a love story, sort of. It's about a beast who loved, but was never 'in love'. It's about a man who had lived far longer than he should have if he had been exactly a human being. It's about a celestial connection to the universe that is put away as if it was a toy until one day, you wake up on a Sunday and remember EveryTHING and how hard it is to remember to be exactly the human you chose to be so that you could find that sort of happy that everybody brags about, but rarely ever finds.
So, let's begin, shall we? And remember. Debate if you want to. The page doesn't care. *
Till the next chapter.
*He woke up on a Sunday morning. This wasn't unusual, because he generally work up every morning, but this particular Sunday morning he woke up remembering.
This in itself is not that amazing of a feat. Many people do this morning remembering such as, 'Did I let the cat in?' 'I wonder if he/she/it/them are available for tea?' or 'Oh my god, it's mom's birthday!'
But not him, not on this Sunday. Cats and tea and mom's birthday, while vitally important, were not the sort of thing he was remembering. He was remembering EveryTHING, with a capital e followed by a capital thing.
You see, he was a human being and for the last few decades he had made that sort of a choice. To be a human being. He made this choice because for so long he had not been, exactly, a human being because... well, that's really what this story is about.
Regardless of that long and sordid tale, which, dear reader, we will get to anon, he made this choice because when he wasn't, exactly, a human being, he had suffered the thousand (and more) shocks that mortal flesh is heir to. And he grew tired of it all.
The shocks were tiresome, not the mortality, because mortality is a thing that can be debated. Not with me, because this isn't my story. Debate with me and you'll get a blank stare from a page that doesn't care. Or stare. It just sits there, waiting patiently for you to do something. Like read on.
He grew tired of all this humanity because he was living in it, but not living of it, if you see what I mean. He was, in fact, lonely, way back then, and this was even before he made the choice. He was not just lonely, he was alone.
Oddly, he thought this was what he wanted. He thought this was right and the way he was supposed to be. To be alone. He had his reasons for believing this, and that is also part of the story.
The lonely part was what surprised him. After a very long time, some might say centuries, but then who's counting, this lonely snuck up on him one day and bit him in his virtual but not literal nether region.
It was triggered because one of his siblings, also a long lifer, showed up on his door step with the news that he was dying. It wasn't a good death, either, like going in your sleep or by living fast and leaving a beautiful corpse. His sibling was neither fast nor beautiful, but there you have it. He was just dying. Well... not just.
His sibling had contracted cancer. I will not dignify that word with a capital anything. It's a nasty thing and should be eradicated, like the petulance it is.
You see, in the world, people move around. They don't always move around in logic or in good sense. Sometimes they just move. His sibling, his youngest sibling, had made the choice to move around and landed in a place that had a high tension power line tower right next to the house he bought.
While there may not be much to support the theory that large amounts of magnetic energy pulsing through your body causes cancer, how could it have no effect?
It's possible that living under high tension power lines might just give you superpowers. It's possible that it might just light up your mind and make you a super genius. It's just possible as well that it's not something that will do your cells any good.
Anyway.. cancer. Youngest sibling. His baby brother, who was older than he should have been, had he also been exactly human, but still... baby brother. And dying.
Denial set in, and he was determined to make sure that his brother did not die. How, one might ask? Doctors had diagnosed it. Large cell carcinoma, in his lungs. Metastasized to other parts and he was given a year, maybe less, to have some fun and live life to it's fullest.
This man, not wanting to accept that his baby brother was actually dying of a malignancy that should have already been cured, did what he had done for years. He stole the cancer from his brother.
Yes, it's a thing. Have you ever said to a friend, 'If I could take your pain, I would'? That was one of the gifts that this man had. He could take your pain. He could take your illness. He could draw that illness into his own body, knowing that, in a foreign environment, the pain, the illness would not find the support system it expected and would evaporate. It was something he had done many times over the years.
Granted, it would give him headaches, chills, fevers, all sorts of short lived inconveniences. But these were things that he knew would pass. Any sort of injury that had befallen him would pass, because he had time. Lots and lots of time, and there wasn't much he could outlast.
It turned out cancer, that bastard, was one of those things that he could not out last. When his brother found out what had been done, such a fight broke out, it shook the heavens. When a Mariachi band tells you to keep it down, you know you are being far too loud.
Baby brother made the man put it back. Not only put the cancer back, but promise to not, under any circumstances, do it again. Not only not do it again, but promise to live his life adventurously, as if it was his last day on earth.
So, given that ultimatum by his dying baby brother, the man promised all of it. He would stand by and watch his brother die and he would get out and be adventurous. You know. Leave his tiny 600 square foot apartment and do things that many people wouldn't do.
We're not talking about alligator wrestling, because everyone knows that alligators cheat. And we're not talking about climbing Mount Everest because Everest is freaking cold. We're just talking about doing things. Travel. Meet People. See things. The sort of adventure that anyone can do, if they leave their tiny 600 square foot apartment.
It took a year and six months.
It was an adventurous year and three months.
Three months before his brother died, his baby brother, his youngest sibling, a man who was a gentle soul and thought the best of everyone, took to bed and never rose again.
And so, after that sort of thing, which can change a person, by the way, and make no mistake, this man was a person, regardless of him being who and what he was, which was not, exactly, human, he left his tiny 600 square foot apartment and started to make friends and go places and do and see.
Some of these friends were ready made. It happens as one travels down the road of life. It's not as if people stick to one like rocks in the shoe or lint on the jacket or that stupid dandelion fuzz that gets in your hair and refuses to ever wash out.
It is more like there are people who end up walking along the path with you. Perhaps not the same path, but that path right next to yours. Different bumps, different rocks, same sky, same planet. And sometimes conversations strike up. Sometimes laughter exudes. Sometimes bonds are formed and sometimes bonds are broken. Still and all, there are those people who, for a time, share a direction and a distance. These are friends. Long running friends.
And if you're very lucky, these friends pretty much ignore that you are a weirdo who lives in a tiny 600 square foot apartment, who occasionally talks as if he's lived for centuries, has total strangers walk up to him and strike up conversations for no apparent reason other than he exists, and has memories and knowledge of which he has no explanation of how he gained those memories or knowledge. These are the sort of long term friends to hold onto.
It was on a long night that he took a leap of faith and put his profile on a dating site. Yes, yes... don't judge. It's a thing. People do it. We are all just trying to make it here, right?
As it happens, one night, he got a nibble. Someone found his babble about quantum physics amusing and far different that other profiles that made promises of what they would do to you. His profile was more of the "Hey. I'm alone and I'd like to have someone to go traveling with. That's all. No promises." type. Honesty is always the best policy.
He got this nibble. This nibble turned into a chat. The chat turned into date and the date turned into a marriage.
Yes! Just like that. It took months, because, you see, this man had no earthly clue about how people really are or how he was supposed to be, so he was just himself and that seemed to be fine.
She felt he was a bit rough around the edges, but that can always be fixed, right? Marriage is all about fixing the men. Oh and shopping. It's about shopping. And arguments. Oh, and a million billion gazillion other things that happens when you put two universes in a cage match and let the rumble begin. It's not always pretty. It's not always glamorous. It's not even always cookies and cream. But it's not boring. And it's certainly adventurous.
He fell in love. No, that's not quite correct. The reason it isn't correct is because he doesn't feel that 'in love' sort of thing. Being 'in love' is a selfish thing. Everything revolves around the person who is 'in love'. It is all about them. Really, it is.
He loved. And when he loved, he LOVED. It's not a thing that is negotiable. It's an acceptance, full on pedal to the metal, driving in the dark with your eyes closed, no, I've never tried this before but what the heck you only live once... or twice or more but who's counting sort of thing.
So, this is a love story, sort of. It's about a beast who loved, but was never 'in love'. It's about a man who had lived far longer than he should have if he had been exactly a human being. It's about a celestial connection to the universe that is put away as if it was a toy until one day, you wake up on a Sunday and remember EveryTHING and how hard it is to remember to be exactly the human you chose to be so that you could find that sort of happy that everybody brags about, but rarely ever finds.
So, let's begin, shall we? And remember. Debate if you want to. The page doesn't care. *
Till the next chapter.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-05-16 04:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-05-16 11:07 pm (UTC)