The people for me and the people I am for:
a poetic essay for the curious.
a poetic essay for the curious.
It's been said, by many a wise mind, that you must know the people you are for, those to whom your character suits. You must also know the people that are for you. This has been heavy in my mind tonight, and so, I have decided to explain what it means, to you, and to myself.
It's been said that the only ones for me are the mad ones; the blind hellions, drunk on adventure, screaming their mind with loud voices. It's been suggested for me the degenerates, freaks with a real sense of self and no quarter given to their temple. There's also been the notion that the people I am for are real twisted fuckers, people with stopped up ears and eyes stapled shut, people with heavy souls, people with rocky shores, people who need lighthouses to go home and yellow brick roads to lead them back to their own hearts. It's been suggested I'm ill suited to mass consumption, that I should be taken with caution and considered with care.
I say it's a pretty terrible thing to be compared to taking brown acid and Jonestown kool-aid.
The people that are really for me? They're the ones with loud voices, even if they shake. The people for me aren't mad, so much as lustful for life. The people for me give care and caution to world, and often to the wind. The people for me are afraid, but admit it, and stare it down with self-righteous fury. The people for me come in many shapes and many sizes. Some carry bruises, others have a suitcase full of bad memories and a head full of horrible nightmares. People for me even show up with forged smiles, a monument to all the things they're trying to hide, and others show up with a shoebox full of snapshots, and a litany of reasons why they can't leave them behind.
The people for me are who they are, despite their reservation about it. The people for me set their sights and follow them with fervent excitement. The people for me are the ones who stand behind their convictions with a sense of pride, the ones prepared to listen and be wrong, the ones who aren't afraid to stare into the dark. The ones for me are the ones who don't believe in dying, but constantly shedding -- hermit crabs of a rather temporal variety who understand that, though the ride might be frightening, it's okay to close your eyes, you just have to keep hanging on. The people for me stand tall in their shame and glory, and come at it unabashedly and with seasoned vigor. The ones for me aren't the ones afraid of falling down, but they're afraid of not being able to get back up.
The people I am for? The curious risk taking fools who agree to step on the ride, are only allowed to do so if they bring a hat. There's a warning up front: Danger, it reads. It just might get loud.
The people I am for are the ones who queue up regardless of the hazard, the ones who already know the rules about strapping in; it's only to be done in the presence of genuine terror, and this also illustrates why the hat is so important. They understand why masks, regardless of shape, size, or color, are strictly forbidden. These are a hazard to other rides and, if you're found to be in possession of one, your ejection from the ride will be swift and unpleasant. They're the people who know the ride is crazy, and they're the ones who get off at the next stop.
The people I am for, are timid people, but brazen enough to stand in their own spotlight, even just for a minute. They are the people who will come and go, sometimes passing like strange ships passing on even stranger tides. They are people who accept their own fragility and bow out, their humility still in tact. They are people to whom I serve an entirely alien purpose, and when it's over? When it's over it's over.
Then, of course, you have the whole section of people who fall into an entire different category: People I should avidly avoid.
These people are the snake oil salesman of the modern era. They're the ones who claw and scramble their way to attentions, charlatans, and escorts straight into the deepest levels of hell. These are people who will swear by good intentions, swindle from an ethical platform, and engage in primitive rituals, designed for the single, sinister, purpose: Casting a spell of fog and self deceit
These people should be noted for the unscrupulous sharks they are and identified at once. They're the people who peddle you cut rate promises and prices to good to be true. They're the dishonest dream dealers, and they're lower than the caricature of used car salesman. They will not hesitate to cheat you, it's in their very nature to be dishonest. They will attempt to appear as though they share your harmony, and they will never disagree with you for fear of losing your interest. They are people ill content to stand in the light, but ever seeking a shadow. They're a social vashta nerada, and they won't stop until you're a skeleton in a suit. They're a bad echo, coming from a deep well long since visited.
These are the people who will exit the stage in a huff of disgrace, and they'll likely try and tart it up as honor. They're people unwilling to take the hit from the frustration, just to follow the high road to which they claim to aspire. These are people who have fallen off, what they see, as the highest road and they have no real intention of ever getting back on again. These are the people will claim to leave with dignity, and these are people who will continue to track that same, rotten smelling, shit where ever you let them walk.
It doesn't matter who you are, you will be one of these three people. Two types of you will form a venn diagram, with the third being notably absent and removed. Of those two groups, those who I am fit for, and Those who are fit for me, there will be some overlap. It's this ovoid figure, where the magic really comes together. It's there where the right people live. It's here where the music's always running, the lights are always on, and home is always found.
These people are not exclusive to any one creed or archetype either, and that's a very real part of this whole idea. These people are not just mad screamers and risk takers, nor are they just people who stand up and simply are. For all their intentions, for all their purpose, they understand that none of us will remain unscathed. They understand that the ride is a ride, and should be enjoyed. They understand the fragility of permanence and the permanent encapsulation of a moment that can forever come from a song. They're people who's memories ring out like ballads. These are people who exist in your life, regardless of position and meaning, who don't have to have a point, but aren't afraid to ask why either.
..And they're not just for me either, they're for you too.
They're for everyone. They're the people who hear your song and add to it, making it brighter than better than before. They're the people who can talk about the 'good old times' and understand that tomorrow's just as good -- if not out and out better. They're the ones who step into your life and stay with you and, even if they're mad, even if they're not there forever, bring a real sense of magic to your life. These people might even scare you, and you might scare them. You might be a messiah, you might be an otherwise ignored pip on a timeline of infinity. They might follow you to the end, or they might want to get off, but they'll be there to make some real magic when they're about.
Just make sure you know yourself otherwise, these people, those people, and all people, are forever going to made up imaginings of a frightened, dishonest, mind.
Don't do that to yourself, that's awful.
