SSS: THE LAST CARD GAME, PART 1: REMEMBER.

*CLICKY CLICKY*

click above on emo Dean Venture to begin a new series afresh.




"let's play a game."

"i'm too sick to play anymore, too tired."

"this will be much like the Yu-Gi-Oh! game you loved so much as a kid, except when turning over cards, you're not trying to win a battle, you're merely reading what they say."

"gotcha. it is a battle, though, the battle for my soul. this is a standard fortune-telling scheme? i'm too smart for you."

"yes you are, but there are no crystal balls and circus suckers around here, it's not that the cards predict your future, they are there simply to inform, they have a face, a painting, and a description underneath, and they're never wrong about life."

"shoot...yourself."

"i'm preventing you from-"

"who are you again? not that it matters."

"it matters not. i am Guy, that prosecutor, that doctor, teacher, everyman, whomever you want me to be. i am so old i dined with a Spirit who wanted Everything but realized He needed a Counterpart because things are not realized as a Whole but rather as an Opposite to Another. i also dined with the Black Spirit that was created from that Realization."

"fascinating. God and Ol' Scratchy, you watch too much Being Human."

"yes i do. please pick your first card from the deck i'm holding."

"it's a blue card with a fair maiden tripping on her bloomers and spilling her lovely marigolds all over the floor."

"ah, the Chase Card. remember?"

"yes, i've always wanted to be chased, be pursued, but i always had to do the chasing, the fruitless chasing. love never came to me, it never fell accidentally into my lap when i wasn't looking. i had to work hard to get the few dates that i did, painstakingly calling back and updating and emailing and planning. nothing came of it, of course, it was all wasted effort, swaths of missing time i could have used to pursue more meaningful things."

"you resent this?"

"yes."

"good. carry on, choose the second card."

"just three today, i really am Bushed. well, what do we have here? it's so silvery, so shiny, so laminated. it's the Tech Card, pic of a computer brain encircled by fawning humans."

"read it more closely. it's the Useless Tech Card. agree?"

"sure, absolutely, i mean, how many hours have i logged onto youtube, and for what? every time i leave a comment on a stranger's video, i wonder what the point of that was. do they ever comment back? no. even if they did, what's the point? what's the ultimate point? there are no friends to be made here, no lovers, no mates, it's all a colossal waste of the universe. online wisps, that term has become mine forever. i just keep thinking about what i could have really accomplished out there in the real world if i hadn't struck that first letter on that first keyboard of mine and trapped myself in an empty addiction."

"art? there's the art of it."

"true. well.....no. who looks at my site? or your site? follower-numbers have become the new bread, folks need to increase their followers in order to survive the way they would have needed to increase their soup intake during the Depression. speaking of depression, i've talked that to death-"

"death comes for-"

"i mean, i used to think twitter was just some stupid gadget used to blow off steam or chill or hang or flirt harmlessly, but people suicide over things typed on twitter, reputations are permanently damaged, racism and all the other -isms live again once more online, blissfully unchecked. it's free speech, but it's free ugly speech, harmful speech, useless speech. i mean, i look at it all and go, "Who the fuck cares?" y'know, people really do care about what makes the Twitter Top 10 each day, this really matters. if your club or social event or hobby trends the most, trends the highest, that's real validation on Earth. now this isn't any better than taking validation from a consecrated wafer, but at least that's food, the staff of life, something that feeds you, heals you, not more inane typing of this and that and this insult and that unfounded belief and the normalization of crazy and what you had for lunch and my cosplay is better than your cosplay and you're not a true geek and sex reduced into pixels and pics and comments filled with irony because they're online instead of experienced in the fresh air of Real Life and fvdfjhfwej4gbmfdvgrgnlfdnsgth54uhjfbjgctht

"Jesus now lives in a Screen. final card if you will."

"i'm seeing Dean Venture recently transformed into emo mode for this season. blank on the back. thanks, that made me chuckle."

"it's not the Emo Card so much as it is the Guise Card."

"*relating over here* i'm a goth, i'm goth though i've never once worn the pale makeup. i agree wholeheartedly with all of their principles. sure, the movement has sold the hell out. bratty kids are tugging on their moms' skirts to buy them dog collars from Hot Topic just 'cause they're pretty, not knowing what the hell any of that all really means-"

"what does it mean, exactly? weren't dog collars originally from the Punk Movement?"

"well, i dunno, it all bleeds together eventually. the point is i feel comfortable."

"of course. feeling trumps logic any day. live in your lie, create your own story through whatever code you desire, make up the rules as you go along, it's all in an effort to feel at peace in the world, to not constantly be on edge, at the edge of a cliff, scared to fall, but actually wanting to fall to see what's down there at the bottomless pit, for this life has interminably confused and confounded you, it will never be an easy math problem to solve, so maybe you figure that a leap of faith will-"

"what, you're saying the goth way of looking at life isn't true?"

"it's your truth to be sure, and that is all that matters. you feel better, no? consider yourself one of the LUCKY ONES, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK. you'll never get lucky, that seems obvious, but you are lucky because you feel good. so okay, you feel better, you're feeling better..................so how do you feel presently? how do you feel right now?"

"i feel lonely, same as ever."

"exactly. buy you lunch?"

"i guess."

"the usual?"

"yep, same as ever: soup."


TO BE CONTINUED...




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