Sometimes the greatest insights come from the daftest conversations, and the sanest among us are the maddest of the lot — and vice versa…
Warning: This is a Gonzo piece I call ‘tightrope writing,’ in which the point is unclear and ambiguous, walking a thin line, mixing its signals and teeter-tottering to make it through. What you’re left with at the end is a cocktail of emotions you can’t boil down to a single position, and the experience stays with you for a long time.
Part 2 – Die And Let Live
Yossarian… yo Yossarian, you asshole! Get it together, man! Get it together and shut the hell up. This is not the time to lose it. Keep your head on your shoulders and stick with the program. The way out is through the hierarchy, not the goddamn sea.
He ain’t listening. Yossarian… Yossarian…
Whatever, just let him go. He never listens. Never does, never did, never will, always rambling and complaining, unless you explain everything to him twice, then twice more, but he still gripes. Gripe gripe gripe. Always fucking griping, like a virgin terrified of cock. Like a prick at roll call. Like an asshole ready to blow.
Rage. Simmering rage, brewing inside everyone’s heads, pumping through their veins. Stalking people all the time, creeping slowly, taking over, its dark veils canvassing the sky and covering the land, stroke by stroke, hand by hand. I rejoice. Not because it’s smooth and comforting, obscuring the sores of this earth, but because it brings with it something sorely missed: the day. The breaking dawn on the tail of the blackout. Another beginning filled with hope and resurrection, incubating inside grief’s dark entrails until it’s time to be born, to be pushed through with brutal force, tearing up the veils and shining upon the earth like the April sun.
Say hello to the light, Yossarian … Yossarian! Say hello to the light, and help the bombardier. Help him, damn it, help him! Help him and shut the hell up, ninnypants. The world doesn’t have room for whiners and philosophers. It needs men and women of action. It needs a headstrong contingent of warriors ready to dive into battle headfirst, that’s what honor and enterprise are all about. How do you think evolution works, Yossarian? How do you think life goes on? It doesn’t hesitate and linger, or mope around, like you do. It screams and shouts and makes things happen, obeying orders without second thought. Yessir! Right away, sir!
Get your ass moving, Yossarian. I’m not going to say it again. As this gun is my witness, I’m going to make its barrel an extension of your brains and paint the skies with you if you don’t get moving right now. Do as I say and leave the thinking to the jobless and dying. Let war do what it does best: feed the greedy and pave way for vested interest.
Do it, or die thinking about it. Die and make way for someone who’ll take your place.
Die and let live, Yossarian! It’s the sane thing to do.