So what’s the fuss all about? I cannot tell because there’s too much noise all about and it isn’t possible that things being said or shouted or screamed can also be heard. Perhaps they are not meant to be heard, perhaps they are nonsensical and absurd things, so absurd and nonsensical that those screaming and shouting have determined to scream and shout at such a pitch that nobody can understand what they are screaming and shouting about. Strange are the ways of the loud, the shouters and the screamers. We have a few, actually more than a few. We have had more and more if you look back down the road you’ve recently travelled.
Talking about the travelled road, does it not seem to you that it runs a reverse course, not ahead but backwards, not progressive but regressive, not onwards but backwards. Have you not felt you are being dragged back, grabbed by your bellies and disallowed from heading on, forced into directions that you believed you had left behind? We are on that road, the one on which the more you try walking ahead the more you are hurled back. You think astronomy, you get astrology. You want to craft a future, you get the remaking of history. You think modern, you get medieval. You think science, you get superstition. You think doctor, you hear quack-quack! You get the drift, we are drifting back. On such a road are we.
But this is not the road we began on, we digressed, although that’s not unusual, is it? I stray, I doubt much if I would still be here if I had not strayed now and again, here and there. That’s how you survive on roads that run crooked and inside down, and often against the way they are meant to run. Tough to stay afloat without straying. Often to stray is to escape to many kinds of safety. It isn’t always safe on the road we are taking in whatever direction, to whatever purpose. Are you listening, you muted one without a mouth? See, look at me, I have no mouth either. And they have so many, they who are making all the noise, the screamers and the shouters. They seem to have more mouths per person than seems normal. They must possess more orifices than just their mouths to make all this sound and fury which is meant to make no sense at all beyond the chaos of the sound and the fury. That’s how we’ve become. But that’s how we wanted to. That’s what we voted for. To become happening people after the long era of Nothing Happened. So there. We’re happening, kar lo mazey!
You think I can
Do tell me man
Just myself and myself alone be
And sing whatever will be will be?