Jul 2019
I'm tired of kicking this horse. Its already dead. It can't hear me yelling anymore. You all know I hate this horse because I kicked it to death. I kicked it to death because it refused to take me to the destination on my map. I realized that it couldn't take me anywhere because it had no eyes but it also had no will to follow my direction. My eyes are quite good and make up for the weaker parts of my body. So I jumped off and began kicking it. I kicked it for a long time but it would have died anyway on its own because it had no eyes and would have wandered off into the ocean and drowned eventually. In a way, this horse may have been already dead.
But like any good (very bad) story (?) it was all a dream.
I only fantasized about kicking my blind horse to death. When I fell asleep (dreaming about kicking my horse to death), it wandered off. I looked over to see it it standing in the water. The water was up to its neck. I think it must have fallen somehow. What kind of dumb horse would walk out into the water and keep going if they knew they were going to die. Thankfully I jumped off the horse before I fell asleep. My arms are weak and I cannot swim. I would have drowned beside that wretched beast. What an awful way to die. Death by association.
What I didn’t tell you before was that I actually rode that horse for quite some time. Through the flat lands. You don’t need eyes if you begin your journey in the prairies. Just wander the right direction. You’ll get there. But as we worked our way diagonally across the hinterland I began smelling salt water. I knew we were getting too far off track and I got nervous. How could I trust a blind horse this close to the ocean. What if I fell asleep? I already told you that I can’t swim. I already told you that it won’t listen to me. I jumped off and began walking beside it. Thats when my mind drifted off and I began thinking about how nice it would be to kick this foolish thing to death.
The tide was rising. At first I left it alone. My mom always said “if you can’t say anything nice don’t say anything at all”. I looked around and realized that my fellow travellers were yelling out, encouraging it to keep walking. Coaching it along as if they were oblivious to the rising sea water. I kept silent. We walked like that for quite a while.
From time to time I would run over and try to guide it away from the water that was rising higher and higher up its legs. Every time I did it would kick me away. A little harder each time. It kept walking. Drifting off toward the ocean. By now the water was up to its neck and the waves were beginning to pick up momentum. My stubborn young horse was no longer walking. It was thrashing wildly against the waves that were beginning to pull it under. There was nothing I could do. How can one man save a full sized horse from drowning itself. Especially if it kind of wants to die?
I eventually allowed myself to cave to my surroundings and joined with my fellow travellers in cheery encouragement. “Keep it up! The best is yet to come!” we would shout. I fully realized that by shouting life into its bleak situation I was positively damning my horse to its watery grave. It was in up to its neck. Besides, it seemed to enjoy hearing the positive reenforcement. It was doing exactly what it needed to be doing, it just needed to keep on walking...further and further out into the ocean. It was nice but it was unhelpful.
I turned around and walked away. I left it standing in its grave. A blind horse isn't worth saving. Useless creatures like blind horses should be encouraged to wander off into the sea where they belong. Where terrible beasts prowl the dark at depths so bleak and depraved that innocent men cannot put images to the tales they’ve been told. Where the terrible waves of culture capsize well constructed personality cults full of innocent people and devour them whole. Where a man can be a fully actualized individual free to choose any and every path laid before him with no consequences or purpose.
Maybe we should euthanize blind horses so they don't hurt innocent riders. Maybe we should educate travellers about the dangers of stubborn, useless handicapped horses. I sure would dislike seeing any innocent soul perish because they jumped on the wrong horse.
But like any good (very bad) story (?) it was all a dream.
I only fantasized about kicking my blind horse to death. When I fell asleep (dreaming about kicking my horse to death), it wandered off. I looked over to see it it standing in the water. The water was up to its neck. I think it must have fallen somehow. What kind of dumb horse would walk out into the water and keep going if they knew they were going to die. Thankfully I jumped off the horse before I fell asleep. My arms are weak and I cannot swim. I would have drowned beside that wretched beast. What an awful way to die. Death by association.
What I didn’t tell you before was that I actually rode that horse for quite some time. Through the flat lands. You don’t need eyes if you begin your journey in the prairies. Just wander the right direction. You’ll get there. But as we worked our way diagonally across the hinterland I began smelling salt water. I knew we were getting too far off track and I got nervous. How could I trust a blind horse this close to the ocean. What if I fell asleep? I already told you that I can’t swim. I already told you that it won’t listen to me. I jumped off and began walking beside it. Thats when my mind drifted off and I began thinking about how nice it would be to kick this foolish thing to death.
The tide was rising. At first I left it alone. My mom always said “if you can’t say anything nice don’t say anything at all”. I looked around and realized that my fellow travellers were yelling out, encouraging it to keep walking. Coaching it along as if they were oblivious to the rising sea water. I kept silent. We walked like that for quite a while.
From time to time I would run over and try to guide it away from the water that was rising higher and higher up its legs. Every time I did it would kick me away. A little harder each time. It kept walking. Drifting off toward the ocean. By now the water was up to its neck and the waves were beginning to pick up momentum. My stubborn young horse was no longer walking. It was thrashing wildly against the waves that were beginning to pull it under. There was nothing I could do. How can one man save a full sized horse from drowning itself. Especially if it kind of wants to die?
I eventually allowed myself to cave to my surroundings and joined with my fellow travellers in cheery encouragement. “Keep it up! The best is yet to come!” we would shout. I fully realized that by shouting life into its bleak situation I was positively damning my horse to its watery grave. It was in up to its neck. Besides, it seemed to enjoy hearing the positive reenforcement. It was doing exactly what it needed to be doing, it just needed to keep on walking...further and further out into the ocean. It was nice but it was unhelpful.
I turned around and walked away. I left it standing in its grave. A blind horse isn't worth saving. Useless creatures like blind horses should be encouraged to wander off into the sea where they belong. Where terrible beasts prowl the dark at depths so bleak and depraved that innocent men cannot put images to the tales they’ve been told. Where the terrible waves of culture capsize well constructed personality cults full of innocent people and devour them whole. Where a man can be a fully actualized individual free to choose any and every path laid before him with no consequences or purpose.
Maybe we should euthanize blind horses so they don't hurt innocent riders. Maybe we should educate travellers about the dangers of stubborn, useless handicapped horses. I sure would dislike seeing any innocent soul perish because they jumped on the wrong horse.
