Copying the structure

He stare intensely at Toy Tony’s gun which he had just bought off the flea market, at the place where a second economy is brewing and supporting those lowly scum of this ultra-developed country, or rather a country that aims, single-mindedly, to become, to be in the league of the developed country, such noble aim, such high score. Every soul and effort is spent on this race towards that bright utopia, a utopia that was just a poor had-been for a country like America, in fact, the Americans are decrying the lack of souls in their society, and yet, yet we are racing in full gear towards being that second copies. American was struggling to maintain her utopia. We just do not have the faith, the blind faith, we call confidence, to be one and only, and be original, be others copies, be in the forefront. Many of our fore-fathers had held up their hands after all these long struggles, they were not cut out to be the original, it is an impossible, but, he the youthful, scorned, they scorned in naivety, they inebriated, we can do it, we can do it and they drown in their intoxication and hallucination of western idealism. Yutang preferred to entertain his stomach instead of these intangible ideologies; a certain characteristic of his past generation of Chinese, he laughed and lauded, the stupidity of sacrifices, of lives over intangible frivolity. Maslow retorted, we need actualisation to reach the pinnacle of being a true human, we the youth, the non-believer of linear progression, berated, this is a piece of shit, did he not heard of parallel processing and simultaneous attainment? We can achieve all that in a single instance. Yeah, Maslow had not heard, he was dead long before this Information society of ours, may be Toffler could sympathize with us.

He is trying hard to grasp his youth and arranging the pattern of this zeitgeist, forming their code in his temple. He is still staring intensely at Toy Tony’s gun. He is surmising all his past experience and self-training, to conjure that pattern out of this staring and intensive observing, time passed, but he is deep in its stasis, motionless, going through every turn, every texture, every colour, every tectonic, every line, every circle, every square, to squeeze the soul out, and to distil its structure.

He is still deep in that search. The illumination from the sun ray is becoming more visible, as the shadow stretches and emphasizes the sun, emphasizes time in passing. He suddenly turns and locks the door behind him. He is out for dinner. What is more important to us human, other than food? He shares the same believe with Yutang. O, foolish human you readers would say. He is proud of such foolishness than all that intangible ideologies. The intangible is just a mind game, for his bemusement and entertainment of his spirit, but never the most important for him, food is! Ideas can wait, and he will never scarify for it. Did Hume love eating? What about Kant, Nietzsche, Foucault, Plato, Aristotle, Derrida, or Beethoven? They all needed to eat, and they sweated alright, but not now, they were all dead and living. Their living creates more fool like us human. Some times among these fools are the most aggressive lot, which we call the terrorist. They terrorised your soul, they stab you deep, you are tortured but never died, you bleed, and you bring this hurt with your eternity.

He savours his food. His dinner is plain and ordinary, nothing close to the French or Chinese cuisine served on high tables. Food in its simplest form is good for him, enough to fill that most-importance in his life. Eat, he eats, in repetition of yesterdays and the days before. This is the most importance of all recurrence that he never grows to despise, but he despises all the other recurrence, the nine to five regimes of his society. He is a dreamer and an unaware adventurer, but he does not know this aspect of himself until much later.