Project Middleman: A plan to battle the curse of mediocrity
To me there is nothing worse than never taking sides. Nothing sadder than using this one opportunity we get to walk this earth, in a bland mélange of yesmanship and lost moments. It seems an awful waste to never carve a path, to never step into the skin you have been lent for a while and see how it wears. Yet, like 99% of the people on Earth, I feel somehow reluctant to express openly what it means to be me. I censor myself, and I impose rules to keep myself walking calmly along the whiteline between yes and no. That terrible whiteline of fear. Neither here nor there. "Yes-well-maybe", "depends", "what do you think?"
Imagine: when I die, my life will have been a futile exercise in buffering. Staving off outside and inside impulse until I can find out what others think or expect and how best to react without causing harm, offense or attracting attention. In short, an attempt to dilute myself. And the world will never know I was here. A secret complacent thief, who stole one entry pass to this world and never really intended to use it.
Sure, some may remember this careful vessel I have constructed to protect myself, but there will be none who would have shared in the reality within. And that has to be the most terrifying thing I can think of:
I don't know how to live.
Again, fuck that.
Hiding behind the veil of agreeableness, serves only to clog the arteries of my future with repression. Massive, primordial repression, raging inches beneath this sensible facade. This does no good; not to me, not to the wretched bastards who surround me. They deserve to know me. I deserve to be known. And we damn well all deserve to enjoy our time in this weird zoo.
So, where to from here? Well, I don't quite know. You see, this 'being myself' is all kind of new to me. Maybe I should get a little woven bracelet that says "What would iocane do?". Maybe next time I am sitting there thinking something I will just blurt it out:
"You know, you have a wonderful looking body. If I were to just brush your perky nipple lightly, what would be the harm in that?" may be an example of this idea taken too far. Some may take time to adjust to this 'new me'. The police, for instance may not see the escape-from-repression side of the argument. However, if its jail I need to escape from this cell of fear, lock me up and find me a bitch.
I am planning on saying this more often: "Hello, my name is iocane. I was just wondering: Are you waiting for someone?"
You know, get involved. Take a stand. Take a chance. Be me. And fuck the consequences. I simply refuse to make excuses for the thing that is me.
Plan of action:
- Realise, really realise, that tomorrow starts today. My life is not that thing that will start one day when whatever it is I am waiting for happens. Nope. My life escapes me all the time. One the tube. At the office. Sitting here, sprouting gibberish to you lot who couldn't care. I want trials and tribulations. I want headlines and secret handshakes. Fucking reach in, tear a piece off and get yer goddamn hands dirty, its getting late.
- Stop 'playing it cool' when I am amazed. Jaded? Um, sorry no time. There is a world pulsating just outside my eyeballs. I want some.
- Take away that preemptive filter that lives in me. Say it, feel it, live it. Why not?
- Find some monkeys to befriend. Those crazy bastards are good at distracting cops and setting them loose behind the wheel of a motor vehicle is one of life's truly rare pleasures.