by Jordan Ray
Tell me about life
Tell me why there are so many things that we do
Or don’t understand why we do
Or why someone else does them
Why can’t we just walk a mile in their shoes now?
Why can’t we just lead simple lives with no other complicating factors?
Like why that girl’s mom is a little bit off
Because she’s having to deal everything on her own
Or like that guy who doesn’t wear the pants in his own house
When ten years ago he could’ve kicked the stuffing out of Mohammed Ali
Why why why why why why why why
Why do I feel the urge to expel my thoughts at you
In some kind of form that I hope has meaning because that’ll make you listen
Why do people feel like they have to get up every morning and brush their teeth
Even though it won’t kill them to not do it one day
But they have this paranoid feeling that the girl made of plastic might notice
Why do I have so many questions?
I’m not afraid of the answers
Or maybe I am, I’m just one-hundred percent sure that nobody has them
Or I know that whatever people tell me I won’t believe them
Because I figure things out on my own
Why did the United States support Saddam Hussein in the ‘80s then attack him in 2003?
Some people say that it’s the journey that counts
Not the destination I might take that even further I’d say that just deciding to make the journey is the first step
Like admitting that you have a soft spot for romantic comedies But deciding to take every step after that is just as important
Following through is so critical
Because if you start a journey and you don’t end up where you planned
Or what if you don’t?
Do you just go from where you get lost?
Why do we worry about being on one side or the other?
Are we so afraid of labels in this day and age that we are afraid to take sides?
Admitting it is the first step, right?
I guess that there’s only so much that’s within your circle of control
But no one really knows what a circle of control is or how to use it
Like when you tell that girl sitting by the wall
With her head down and her hair dyed black
And say, “Hi”
You just prevented a Tylenol overdose on Saturday
By offering someone a glittering diamond of hope
One of the lumps of coal that you’ve been pressing forever
But you keep to yourself
I love sharing
And I hate it.
It’s so liberating
But what’s done is done
And you can never take it back
I love randomness
It keeps the mind fresh and free
And it keeps you from taking yourself too seriously
I have no idea what I’m trying to say
I just keep spewing a word vomit that bubbles forth like that fountain I saw once
Or maybe more like a torrent of water that sweeps away everything before it
Overwhelming the little yellow keys that try and keep their heads above water
While trying to capture and remember feeling
Doughnuts are amazing
Just thought I’d throw that in there
But I mean think of the symbolism behind doughnuts.
The are pre-made by corporations in some far-off foreign land
Like Hollywood or Saskatchewan
Sent to us in little kiosks or fast-food stores like Timmy’s
Then we pay peanuts for them
And our brains are hardwired to think that they taste good
Meanwhile you just keep going back for two or three more every week
And every time you pay, you give up a piece of your soul
Hope I didn’t put you off of your snack
Didn’t put me off mine
I’m going to go away from this just like everyone else and think to myself
Hmmm… that was fun
Let’s go to Starbucks!
And the world spins madly on
While the people who continue to twirl the top for those people at the bottom
Keep on with their oblivious little lives
With their custom made blinders
The ones they asked for when they didn’t like the answers to some of their questions
You know, there was a time when I thought that tongue in cheek meant making out
And then someone told me that I did it
And my alarm went off
Good morning Victoria, you’re listening to Forbes and Marshall on 98.5 the Ocean
Actually no, that’s a lie It’s more like I’m Gregor Kregie, and this is CBC Radio on the Island
You know what they say, let your geek flag fly
I found out what that meant too
I mean like, what one of the other meanings for it is
It means cool
Does all this have a point?
I don’t know
But you can ask the same thing about everything else
And get the same answer I’d like to think that it does
Makes me a better writer
Helps to grow my brain
Serves to blackmail me later on in life
Or just gets lost in Google
You searched for “Life”
Ten trillion, six hundred seventy four billion, eight hundred fifty five million
Two hundred twelve thousand, nine hundred and two matches
I like to think though
That when you look
And I mean really look at what goes on around you
That black smudge beside the sub header in the newspaper
That stray moldy breadcrumb
That you left on the floor of your room before the electrical fire
That wisp of cloud that just can’t seem to settle on a shape
That bus driver who has a sort of glazed look in their eye this morning
That girl that everyone knows, but no one really knows
And when you think about these things
Like asking yourself, how is the paper boy today?
Why didn’t I use that bread for my sandwich?
Why do I like to name clouds?
What is his life like at home?
And, I wonder if anyone really loves her?
When you look at things and think
You open your mind
And that googleplex of search results will take up residence in your cranium
So you can sift through it until your dying breath
But you won’t find the one you’re looking for
Because all those answers in your googleplex were written by someone else
And you will write the meaning of life