Fiction

Tuesday, December 22nd, 2009

 

Excerpted from gas., an experiment, a metafiction, a novel novel

© 2009 James Beach

 

CHAPTER 17. HAPPINESS IS...

Happy now that I’m getting a bit of nourishment. Yes, I bought a frozen pizza and since the oven pilot was out I left it in the freezer. Naturally I wanted to eat it today. To stave off the hunger, divert the cravings for drugs, fill my afternoon.

And yes, I grilled that pizza on the oven-racks, which I set up on the range. (A bout with the broiler pan yielded burnt crust and cold top.) I put a chunk at a time over each of the burners, left it somewhere between 2 and 4 (out of 8). From time to time a chunk would catch fire. I dismantled the fire alarm.

Took me about an hour to grill all but the middle of the pizza (too soggy by the end of the shift). The crust of course charred on bottom, halfway through. But the top was hot.

You could call this, since this script also contains comic moments, you could call this the dark comedy pinnacle. Or whatever. Darkly comedic moment. A crux, a turning point. 

I’m feeling some nausea, now, actually. The worst was maybe the carcinogenic crust (of which I devoured one jaggedy piece). (I have no utensils here at all, remember. And I am enemies with my neighbors.) Gosh I hope the sausage and pepperoni were cooked long enough. You know my fears about intestinal parasites! They survive being frozen and grow and spawn indefinitely. Yuck. Or perhaps, just maybe, this was self-induced therapy, to get over all of that fear…

The nausea is psychosomatic, surely.

Then again, sausage and pepperoni of low quality, at a questionable temperature, probably harbors the very larvae that’s so destructive. Well fuck it, I can take care of that later. For now I’ve given the worms a bit of something to gnaw on.

How many of us eat uncooked meat? How many restaurants serve raw foods, either unintentionally or malignantly? The yeast comes too, to give the parasites something to crawl round in… Then we need to ask why so many men have basketball abdomens, rather than flat ones…. My guess is, it’s because we all have an aquarium inside us, all the fishes and the sharks…

This is getting too gross. An intestinal cleanse? You really need an M.D. for that. (You might try herbs or have a colonic, though these “green” remedies only partially work, leaving the body half-cured…)

At least with the bedbugs, you can, we can, see them, if we look. Usually. (Unless in the skull, etc.) With these bugs—and there are a slew of variations of worm and bacteria—your guess is as good as mine. Only a physician knows for sure. Ah, maybe a nurse practitioner might be able to do the repair.

To me, this is a war within a war, humans v. bugs. Yet I also believe, in my little hippie heart, that we coexist peaceably. This can occur if humanity changes its living habits, kills the bug colonies we need to destroy completely (so the survivors can’t tattle about our cruelty to other tribes). We need to return to the earthy way of living, like Luddites, like the Amish, the Amana colonies perhaps (although they do build electric and gas appliances for the rest of us). All indigenous materials and foods, organic everything, no synthetics, a return to claw and straw and rock. Of course we’d eventually be pesticide-free (once a colony or the gov’t can get the bugs under control). Our other option of course is to go completely high-tech, living in nontoxic synthetic orbs that float above the Earth, are human propelled somehow. We should also probably quit eating animals and animal byproducts, quit enslaving and butchering animals for no real known reason except that maybe we secretly like the parasites within our systems? [and they do crawl out into everything, even the brain…]) After that we should quit grilling, quit making fires, quit chopping down trees. We’re the pests to the forests. Eat raw vegetables, become fruitopians eventually (those buggers eat only the fruit that naturally fallen to the ground in actual orchards devoid of chemical sprays and irrigation).

Yes, if the world were peopled with fruitopians, that would be happiness. Happiness is a return to the Garden of Eden, minus whatever it was that made Adam and Eve put on fig-clothes. Naked and in the garden, with our boys and girls, living in harmony with all creatures, eating fruit dropped from the bough. Happiness is paradise, a nice even temperature so we can stay naked, lounging and pondering, telling stories, philosophizing, making love.

Barring that, we’ve got the same idea of a harmonic balance, stepped up into a new synthetic dimension, wherein we completely remove ourselves from the planet and live in the floating orbs, as scientists and witnesses on the Earth. We touch nothing, take nothing, breathe nothing. We make all our own food, air, etc. We’re visitors here, in this scenario. 

See, these days, the “green” people are actually much worse for the Earth than the ignorant slobs or lazy slobs or rebel slobs who use as much trash as they like and eat the worst stuff possible for them. Wanna know why? The former typically take jets or planes here and there on vacations (using an enormous amount of fossil fuel). The former typically buys “green” or “organic,” which demands much more fossil fuels and toxins than anyone lets one—buying a bar of soap graced with a flower grown only in the Amazon rain forests? Ordering organically-grazed elk carcass flown in from New Zealand? etc) <I’ve done these things, in my earth-friendly phase.> The former typically recycles—however, most recycling processes use about as much energy as it saves. The former typically push for alternative fuels such as ethanol, a fuel that actually uses a lot more energy to produce a gallon of out of corn than the old gas made of oil. The former buy a lot of clothes to remain fashionable, typically. The former renovate more, typically. Each of which requires a lot of energy to manufacture.

Call me a pacifist/anarchist, but if the population continues to produce waste at the rate that the later group (above) does, we’re going to hit a crisis much sooner. Something dramatic will need to be done, sooner.

Someone I knew back when I was into all that “green living” stuff recently made a comment about her “eco-guilt”. I totally understand. It makes me happy that we all need to deal with this as a species, or else perish as a species.

Oh, sure. The 1% Club, the richest percent in all the world, may prevail, if they’ve done their homework, made adequate guesses. (Most of us will die or be sold as food-stuffs to the aliens, is my theory. Whichever plot is in the works.)  The planet, hurting from lack of love and soul, is just getting too ravaged and debased for words. Maybe the bugs will win.


*****

to the top...