The Twilight of an Idol
I was listening all day to Ace of Base’s The Sign. Cool. Like I was back to being 4 or 5 years old, listening to the first song that I could goddamn unerstand well. How could a person like you bring me joy? Hahaha. I love the sound and I prefer Ace of Base now to John, Paul, George and Ringo. kIDDINg! Anyway. But Where do YOU belong? kinda philosophical, huh? I’m supposed to be philosophical. I’m a philosophy major, for Pete’s sake? And what have I learned? Absolutely nothing absolute. I still can’t answer the fundamental questions. What is the Truth? What is Good? What is Real? What is Right? What is Life? Well, bloody hell, at least I know what is beautiful. Or who is. hahaha.
But life escapes me. I am the little kid, crying over the death of Mufasa. I was the second grade two, mad about Jasmine during the scene where she is turned by Genie to be Jaffar’s damsel during the climactic scene of Aladdin. I was Red Mask, fighting for Rio. I was the Green Ranger, the lost apostle. I was the leader of a Gang that terrorized the poor groups of Jehovah’s Witnesses stalking our subdivision. I was the kid who joined every spelling and oration contest in school, who realized that I had a wonderful career with words. I was the kid who bought that Moffats album with the terrible name and cheesiest songs; I was the highschool freshman who was so engrossed with Adolf Hitler, The Beatles and nothing else. And I was the stupid guy who let himself be turned into a heartless, pathetic bookworm. Ahh.
Oneday, I’m gonna look back and blow a puff for each heartbreaking memory.
I won’t die in a lonely villa, having an orange, with two thin dogs sniffing at my expectant corpse.
