I came into this world screaming, in the middle of the night. Delivered
into the hands of Unconditional Love and Confusion. Discipline and Dogma
were my Master and Nanny. My life has been one long escape and survival
adventure. An unbroken chain of pitfalls and challenges. Some ludicrous,
others insidious. I learned the price of Life by witnessing Death. I learned
the futility of Death by observing Life. I learned about Law and Order from
Badged Barbarians and Black-Robed Bastards. I found God in spite of religion.
I found there is precious little Humanity in Civilization. I'd been born
into a world of bad examples. I don't know if I'm clever, or just lucky,
or both. I made it this far without growing up but I had lost my innocence.
The secret night is my faithful friend, my constant companion, my quiet
confidante. The night that was my school. The night that spawned my hopes.
The same night into which I made my escape from the Valley of the Dead.
I plunged my thumb into the warm Summer interstate and made wrong turns
until I got it right. I found myself by running away from everything else.
A far left took me to the titanic grey Atlantic. From the Rocks of Romance,
to the Point of Paranoia. A silver Greyhound took me South to the sun-soaked
sands of Bigotry and Wealth. A Wild Goose led me Mid-West where I lost a
heart and gained an unknown friend. I was Sisyphus nudging a colossal question
mark up a mountainside.
The moon punched a perfect hole in that big black sky the night I wheeled
a big beige Chevy into that uncertain darkness. I roared into that Wild
Weird West like I suddenly had my dreams in sight. I rode the asphalt belt
across the bread-basket of America. Through towns that looked like last
nights party and landscapes scarred by yesterdays pillage, I chased a receding
night. Across a sea of stones that grew into mighty mountains. I parted
the silent, blinding desert, chasing a retreating Sun into tomorrow. I stayed
two steps ahead of a haunting pain, escaping my past, hunting for a future.
Only the Pacific could stop me now. That and the price of gasoline.
Reality pounded on my front door the very first day in the Land of Dreams,
demanding the rent along with my undivided attention. I paid through the
nose for this pretence of Paradise. It was a time and place of superlatives.
I had left Purgatory to explore the outskirts of decency. I sank to a new
plateau and I loved it. No ladder could reach the high I attained. I wallowed
like a greased pig in the nightmare of the American Dream. I gave authority
a run for its money. I know immeasurable pleasure because I understand the
folly of caution. I know the price of exquisite pleasure is a four-fold
count of pain. I committed the crime of keeping my eyes open. I committed
the sin of opening my mouth. I questioned authority and heard it's resounding
silence. I know now what intense pain is because I have seen unbelievable
apathy. I believe reality is what one believes it is. Though my compassion
is callussed, I have no tolerance for intolerance. I wear a carapace of
comic cynicism and a helmet of humor. I do not need what I do not have.
I want what I do not need. I carry the sword of sarcasm. I make a sound
bigger than bullshit. I cut the crap with a flick of my wrist. My pen is
my chainsaw. This machine kills Facists.
Way Out West © 1993 Martin Scherer. E-mail: mscherer@tesserak.net