Soundtracked

30DIC Day 8: Cope Aesthetic

Well alright you guys...we've made it past the first full week of the "30 Day Image Prompt Contest - CLOSED" , which is pretty impressive...it's no bird snatching a kid impressive, but hey, ten poems in eight days isn't a bad way to start. Thanks for joining me so far...it's been kinda nice doing this again.

So, before I go into today's poem, I'm gonna be up front about this...I chose the image of the girl on the ledge with the birds because it was somewhat odd and striking for being on the surface sweet and serene, and also I HAVE QUESTIONS.

Who was watching that kid?? Who let her get up on that ledge? Child Protection Services is gonna be piiiiiissed.

How/why is that kid holding a feather? Like, what are the chances? Sure, maybe it was just there and I know kids will touch anything, especially if it has any kind of texture, but what if that kid is some kind of a magical bird whisperer  ? Does that mean she's destined to grow up and be a bird-themed superhero? Reach for the stars, kid.

What's connecting the two birds on the right? Is it a worm? Seems too long to be a worm, and also I think they're too high for a worm to survive in that capacity. Also, if it were me, and say I picked that worm up off the ground in my mouth, by the time I flew up to the top of a building that high off the ground, my jaw would be aching and I'd probably be gagging. Assuming of course I hadn't already ingested it. I mean, that's why it's in my mouth, right? So really, what is that thing?

The way that kid's positioned, she looks like she wants to comfortably slide down the building...like, say you're sitting on the deck of a pool with your feet dangling in the water, and then you just shimmy your hips a little and slide in down the side? That's what the kid is ready to do...not jump or fall, but casually slide down. Don't do it, kid...you'll ruin your dress and your mom will not be pleased.

Why do I always think of the worst-case scenarios when I first see these pictures? Why do I constantly and immediately go to the dark place?

Ok, so now that I've piqued your interest you're probably wondering WTF I'm talking about. Here's the pic and the poem; make of it what you will.

Cope Aesthetic

Comfort seems to be defined as
"someone must win,
someone must lose,
and know the loser has it worse than you".
All the promise held
may not be enough grace
to stave off split-second
group violence therapy.
One day you're cheering in the crowd,
and the next you're on the card.
We feel at home watching war,
more at peace because it isn't us
than actually giving a damn.
Learned immunity. That's all it is.
As long as it's happening over there,
I'm free to forget to remember
why this isn't supposed to be funny to me.

         "Cope Aesthetic"  from "Also Mutants" .

When I first saw this image, I swear I saw a bunch of birds fighting and beating the crap out of each other, all to this little girl's delight. Plain and simple...first impression. And you know as well as I do, first impressions are tough to get past. There was violence and mayhem and more than one loosened feather. I looked at it as one panel of a comic strip...and by the end the birds were scattering with various, ummmm, souvenirs, if you will (ahem, no child in the final shot). Thug birds. Real killers with no remorse. Gang birds; first rule of bird club is there is no bird club.

Why do I think like this??

"Clap For The Killers"   -Street Sweeper Social Club

"Well I wrote this for criminals, but all of y'all should listen at me."

Dammit, you have no idea how badly I wanna incorporate the line "Only in death will we know peace"   into something, anything, and soon. Really soon. I wanted to work it into today's poem somehow, but once I started I lost focus on that when actual words of my own started coming out. But it's a fantastic line...I should Google it to see if it's been used before; something that good probably has. I won't though because I'm not using it today and don't care that much right now, but down the road...I'm calling dibs on it. No take-backs.

Perhaps you're like me, and have on occasion issues with coping. Maybe, like many Americans (and probably many of my UK friends too), this current administration is giving you a drinking problem  . I know if I had a disposable income right now, I probably would've been in rehab by day 60 30 of the reign (had to take into account the ludicrous campaigning, debating, and general run-up to the election). Good news! Bars in Washington DC opened early for the Comey testimony   this morning, because tailgating is probably the only thing America has left to rally around, and what better way to get through more of the government's ridiculousness than pregaming for a hearing with the former Director of the FBI? It started at 10:00am; thankfully I had things to do, or else I'm positive I would've drank myself into a stupor by the time he busted out "Lordy, I hope there are tapes."   Sidenote: Please god someone remix that quote into a dance single or club banger. What the world needs now is a "Lordy, I Hope There Are Tapes" remix.

And finally...what was I doing instead today, that I couldn't be day-drinking while watching government officials wreck politicians and businessmen and vice/versa? I was at the therapist, assaulting my own head for its life choices while cursing the choices ahead of me. If Jon Hamm doesn't care who knows   he sees a therapist, then that's good enough reassurance for me. I'm almost kinda glad my life's been the way it's been for so long; seeing my therapist is like 45 extra minutes where I'm not scrolling through social media and getting blasted with "Trump This"/"Trump That"/"Trump Definitely Didn't Pee On Hookers" constantly. I like to end blog entries with good news, or humorous stuff, or something light and fluffy. Facebook was all like "Fuck that! You get Comey stuff mixed with bad news and death and Russia and Comey and Trump didn't tweet but his kid did, and his lawyer misspelled 'president'  ". If only my therapist's office had an open bar...

Alright you people...I'm gettin' outta here. You got a poem and some insight and some nonsense and some news; if you want anything else outta me it's gonna cost ya. Maybe instead, go shut down your devices, chill, and talk to your families or somethin'. Peace, BCC: DC, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!