Evil Is Boring


Yes, evil is boring. It’s easy for me to write of all the ugliness I have suffered, the human race does love to wallow, and I’m sure your eyes would devour it hungrily. Those self-hating memoirs of middle aged novelists are prolific, and the fact that books like “Running With Scissors” are topping the charts shows how much we all love to watch someone’s train wreck. Yes, I read the book. Not very well written, but the content was sure interesting. It made me wonder…

I could say a few things about being raised in a house where pans and buckets caught the leaks and drip, dripped in the midnight silence, as frost ringed my pile of wool blankets. I could talk about covering myself with leaves to stay warm at 2 o’clock in the morning while I huddled on the side of the road straining my eyes for the glow of headlights that would be my mother coming to pick me up. I could tell you about the length of 2×4 my father called the Paddle and how we all walked in fear of it. How we would huddle under our blankets at night, on the mattresses lined up on the floor, hearing the front door slam with dread. I could tell you what happens to a pretty little girl when nobody is around to protect them from men who are much bigger and stronger. I could descend for several hundred pages into a pit of dark self-pity and you would be pulled right along with me, biting your nails and gasping with shock.

But, ya know, evil is boring. I’m not gonna feed the hate machine, I’m not going to spend one more moment or one more page, dredging up rotten memories that will only stink up the place. I would rather share with you the things I have learned from my experiences, which are numerous. I would rather tell you about the first time I saw an eagle fly through morning mist, or when I discovered the fractal wonder in the pattern of a waterfall. It may not sell a million books but at least I can say I am not pandering.

sure, I could wow you with the nasty side of life and how well-acquainted I am with it, but darkness is not what I have to offer. I am so much more than pain and regret. I am a poet of the moonlight, wafting scents of sage and jasmine with my glistening ink. My metaphor bends with fluid grace, like a river, so come wet your toes in the current.



*This little speech was inspired by Rob Brezsny, I have supplied a link to the page I was reading. Thanx Rob 🙂



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