Existential Billy and the Modern Age

Billy sometimes felt vaguely ill-at-ease about his part in midwifing the modern age.

REFERENCES

[image] Oklahoma Star Archives (click image above for larger version)

[aphorism] Special guest writer, David "The Beatnik" Spindle.


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How to Make It In Band Land

Scene: Dave's house in nowhere Oklahoma

Phone rings; Dave answers

* * *

Dave: Hello?

Voice: Is this The Rounders?

Dave: Uh, yes.

Voice: Hey, what's up?

Dave: Oh, not much how are you?

Voice: I'm good man, I'm good. Uh...my name is John and I have this business concept...a business concept for bands and I was wondering if you would hear me out on it.

Dave: (hesitating) Sure...

John: Okay, like, I've got this camera and I film bands. Then I put it up on YouTube with tag words like "music" and "gig" and "Rounders" and...uh...are you rock?

Dave: What?

John: Are you guys rock or like...country.

Dave: Well, John, we're not really a band anymore; we disbanded and...

John: Oh. You see I got your info off of OKC Live and...

Dave: Right, but we're no longer performing together...so you know...you really couldn't...film us...

John: But this idea is, like, for anybody who wants to get well known. Cause, like, radio charges like, thousands of dollars for every spot you....

Dave: I understand that, but the fact of the matter is that we don't play together anymore. We couldn't give you any content. And besides, it sounds as if you're asking for money for some service - which is fine - it's just that I couldn't make a decision like that on behalf of the other guys. Perhaps you should try a band that's a bit less...you know....moribund.

John: (huffily) Well, like I said this idea is for anybody who wants to get well known. But if you don't want to get well known, whatever. Sorry to, like, waste your time.

* * *

The phone clicks; he has hung up.

Dave sat quietly and looked out the window, ruminating on what had just occurred....

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REFERENCES

[image]stockPhoto

[1] Contributed by guest writer, Dave "The Beatnik" Spindle

Existential Rachel at the Art Show

"My God Rachel, whatever is wrong with you?" I asked, concerned.

"What?"

"You're grimacing right now."

"It's not a grimace, David," she replied, eerily calm.

"It most certainly was. Here, I'll show you," I insisted, as I began
fumbling with my digital camera.

Rachel extended her arm, gently placing two fingers to my lips,
bringing me to a dead halt.

"David, I know I wasn't grimacing," she continued, in the same eerily
calm voice as before "I just had an epiphany. I've just glimpsed into
the void of Pure Being."

"Void of Pure what?" I asked, feeling incredibly uncomfortable because
she hadn't yet removed her fingers from my lips, and people were
beginning to stare.

"The void of Pure Being, my sweet and lovely David, the void Pure
Being. You see, in the moment you captured with your camera, reality
opened itself up to me, revealing the true emptiness and meaningless
that under girds our existence. I realized just now, standing here in
the middle of this art opening -this veritable cathedral to human
creativity- existence stands there, mocking us in our vanity; life is
nothing but a fable, told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
signifying nothing."

"Wait, have you been talking to my brother? What the hell is wrong
with you people tonight? You freebase a little Camus, maybe a little
Sartre and suddenly everything is meaningless?" I declared, all the
while trying, unsuccessfully, to wrench my lips away from her two
fingers, which had come to form a kind of vice grip around my mouth.

"Don't fight it David; accept it, it's beautiful," Rachel replied, her
tone oddly sweet considering she now had me firmly in a headlock and
was ramming my head mercilessly into the wall. The last thing I heard
before I became unconscious was "David, all appearance, all
diversity has melted away and I see the true nature of unified
existence. It stands before me, bloated and disordered; naked, oh,
the frightful nakedness..."

I came to about four hours later, sprawled out on the sidewalk in
front of the building; my head throbbing. Everyone had left, the show
was over and the lights were turned off. Struggling to get to my
feet, I realized that someone had in fact peed all over my blue suede
coat.


REFERENCES

[Image and article] Special guest writer, David "The Beatnik" Spindle.


O.

Existential Tim at the Cafe

The smoke and dim light of the cafe performed a gentle pirouette around his closely shorn head. Responding to my query, Jean-Paul Timmy turned to me, his voice barley above a whisper, eyes aflame with sadness, and said, "God is absence. God is the solitude of man."

"What?" I asked.

He cracked a sly smile,"Life has no meaning the moment you loose the illusion of being eternal; life begins on the other side of despair."

"Tim, I just wanted to know if you liked your beer; I'm not sure what your saying has to do with...."

"Every existing thing is born without reason, prolongs itself out of weakness, and dies by chance." he said, interrupting.

"Whatever," I sighed, abandoning the whole conversation entirely.

"Artistic symbols and myths speak out of the primordial, preconscious realm of the mind which is powerful and chaotic. Both symbol and myth are ways of bringing order and form into this chaos and therefore..." His voice trailed off as I walked away from the table.

"Jeez," I muttered to myself, making a mental note never to invite Tim anywhere ever again.

REFERENCES

[image and article] Special guest writer, David "The Beatnik" Spindle

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