Who me?… I’m not gifted…I have a past…I don’t like sheep…I don’t know how to tweet!
Anonomous, Sort of…
How did you find me? I didn’t think that anyone would find me here, sunning myself on the banks of the river de-Nile. I can see why some people never leave. All that is missing is a sense of accomplishment. The best thing about living in de-Nile, is that I get to set my expectations. I’m sure that there is more to it than crashing yet another luau or indulging on another all-you-can-eat buffet. There must be some accountability; maybe a box to check or a milestone to recognize.
Setting expectations is dicy in its self. If I shoot too high, I may be too busy to get to the things on my bucket list, re-reading the classics — just the light and fluffy stuff, MAD magazine, and The Adventures of Archie and Jughead— or binge-watching of the first 31 seasons of Simpsons will suffice. If my aim is too low, I risk inviting chaos, a non-stop party atmosphere bound to garner the attention of Burning Man revelers and the COVID police.
Sure, it’s not as secluded now, but people still came — they didn’t want to be found. It’s to hide from whatever, or whomever, it is that’s chasing them. Most overstay, cocooning longer than they should. Those that do stay too long find it harder to leave. Most are demoralized to discover that they aren’t as relevant, as popular, or as essential that they thought they were. I pity the fools, as Mr. T would say, those who begged the protesters to visit creating mischief and mayhem, thinking it won’t come back to bite them. Now that is the epitome of denial. Is this what they expected?
Some big names have passed through these waters. You can probably figure who without me naming names based on which tabloid in the grocery aisle catches your eye. You hear about the few that make it out, escape so to speak, even though they are here of their own free will. You don’t see any gates or guards, do you?
Me, why am I here? I’m here because my flight was canceled, and this is where my plane took a forced landing when the virus hit. I tried to leave a few times but couldn’t get a flight to connect me to utopia. They tell me that scheduled flights to there are a thing of the past; I am told that you can only get there by happenstance. All this time, I thought hard work and perseverance would be enough to power me through to a better life. Oddly, I never thought I needed to stumble my way into bliss. It’s all starting to sound like a time-share scam to me.
I know this isn’t where I belong, but since I have been here, everything out there is much different from what it was. I wasn’t planning on staying. As you can see, all I have with me are the few things that I bought at the airport — a used copy of Pyramid Building for Dummies, a tube of SPF10 sun-blocker, oh, and a frisbee for the Wonder Pup.
It does seem to be more crowded since I came. Maybe it’s time someone thins the heard and give the masses a much-needed shove. They need to get out of their comfort zone and get on with their lives. Why are you asking me if I have a mirror?
What do you mean, I’ve been evicted? Short term housing…my lease? Where am I supposed to go…I have been called up…what does that mean? I have been assigned to…really? I should warn you, I don’t…the Wonder Pup doesn’t… do well with snakes or politicians. And cruise ships, I would prefer that I stay on dry ground.
Who are you anyway? Sorry, I didn’t see the scars. I’m going. I just need to grab the Frisbee if that’s okay — I promised the Wonder Pup a souvenir. By the way, what’s with that Jackal thing, part dog, part what? Are there no poodles here? It kept taking the Frisbee. How am I going to explain the teeth marks?
Sorry, where to? Just keep moving forward?
Thanks for reading, liking, and sharing,
Ivy didn’t come along, she had no interest in flying when she learned she would be stuffed in the overhead or under the seat in front of me.
Al and his faithful, yet absent sidekick, Ivy the Wonder Pup.
It’s a Frisbee, Ivy. I throw it and you chase it. I don’t know why it has teeth marks.