1. God is a Fly
It’s been three days without rest. Each night feels like a fast blink pushing me numb towards the summer sun. I scroll through the world during those second-lasting hours and contemplate the great people of this continent. Feminism is dead, goth is back, Jung doesn’t suck after all.
It came to my mind that I should prepare a lecture titled The Poetics of Fucking. It could be ready in a couple months, maybe in a year or two. It would talk about gender, sex, sexuality, value hierarchies and BDSM.
After all, we all have fucked feminists that love getting a little choked, a little tied with rope, a little spanked -be it by men or by other women, of course- and someone has to talk about it.
But let’s leave that for later.
For now, I must edit my resume and see if I can get something to pay the bills. Because it’s not like I am a bum. I used to have a decent job and look elegant and wild while drinking wine every day. But I wanted to struggle a little bit more, so I came back.
This is a moment of growth and that’s good. But because growth requires a lot of pain the other night I found myself wishing to think about God. And searching for the proper images, I realized that Jesus Christ seemed ridiculous, unfitting. So I ran through millions of the old sacred images looking for God, but I still couldn’t find him. They all seemed ridiculous and unfitting.
My mind kept instead redirecting me to another single vision. A fly. One of those thick, black/green flies. It rubbed its front limbs, over and over again. Like in one of those .gifs you see on Instagram.
I then understood that the lucidity of my insomnia was pointing at something. Perhaps God is a fly. Perhaps God is all flies.
Perhaps, he is always there, rubbing his hands and continuously expecting for something to happen. He waits for cities to burn and for flowers to blossom. Just out of pure whim, just out of pure loneliness. At the end, we deeply know that if any creature is in more isolation than human beings it must be God. That’s why he has put an eye inside all of us, and why he desperately watches while rubbing his hands.
But don’t blame him, he’s restless. And he can go centuries without sleep.